Red Serpent
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia.RLSS
1. M's Man

**Title:** Red Serpent (1/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2685 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Beta'd by the lovely drachemina. Also posted at my IJ, with illustrations.

I forgot to put this on the last chapter (haven't posted in a genfic area in ages) but this is a SLASH fanfiction. There will be somewhat graphic male/male relations. You have been warned.

:::

For all the pursuers cared, the man could have been a dog; a dog to be hunted down, put down and sent down to wherever his maker judged him fit to go. He was, one could observe, a hunter turned to hunted. A ragged predator who had met with a pack of others and been found wanting.

The Moscow streets were empty. A wash of rain had covered them earlier in the evening and was still gleaming in places; a dirty orange, city gleam that served to darken the shadows. It was an oily gleam that sickened the eyes and siphoned colour from the world, not that much colour was ever evident in these grey roads save the familiar red. The hunted man ran through the seeping patches of light, shadows dragging at his feet. His pursuers knew where they were going and there was no telling for him how many were behind. There was darkness of varying shades everywhere. He glanced round desperately, eyes blurred with sweat. Too many corners, doorways and alleyways; too many hiding places and potential traps. He feinted right before leaping off left, the balls of his feet pounding on the stones. The narrow road he chose was, thankfully, devoid of people. The man took another look over his shoulder, assessing the state of the chase a little more rationally now the danger was not all round.

He was a man best described as dangerous. A tall frame was encompassed by lean muscles and carried with the posture of a man who knew everything that strong body could do and would willingly do it. Grey eyes looked out from under a thick comma of black hair and would just as happily look through you as at you. His mouth would, after inspection, be described as cruel thanks to the mocking tilt it often adopted. Cruelty was most often disguised by a wide grin, though it never fully went away. The man was ruthless and proud. The tilt of his chin was enough to show that. Currently, however, fear was pulling at those handsome features. The mouth tightened, the eyes narrowed and the chest heaved with hurried breaths. This man knew what it was to be the predator and now knew the fear of the prey. Behind him was the pack and their teeth were bared. They had turned the corner too and were howling their pursuit. No guns were fired; they had been told to take him alive.

The river glimmered at the end of the street, a sinking darkness below the surface reflection. A step into there would mean disorientating cold and an uncertain fate. It could be an escape or it could be death. The man was not ready for that much of a gamble yet, not while his legs still had strength. He went left along the side of the river. The puddles were deeper here where the road was more uneven. He splashed through them. So did his pursuers, though it seemed from the sound that they were falling further behind. He allowed himself that trickster's grin but it slid from his face as he realised that footsteps were also coming from in front of him. He cursed. The pack was clever.

Two figures emerged from the darkness ahead, both large and intimidating. The street was too narrow to get around them easily and the reach of their arms promised to be inconveniently long. Chance was that one of them would get a hand on him and then it would be all over and the pack would descend upon him like hounds on a fox and with far less mercy. Hunted eyes darted from side to side as he ran on; the river on the right with no bridges within distance and dark brickwork to the left, repeating and repeating until suddenly a shadow seemed darker than the rest. He dodged towards it and was more than relieved to discover that it was a dark little alley. Blackness surrounded him and he welcomed it gratefully. Darkness could hide him.

Shadows, however, are not picky as to who they hide. A sudden flash of light from a torch blinded him and made him stumble. Even as his hands came up to shade his eyes a massive figure loomed in front of him and seized hold. It was over in moments when the pack rounded the corner. They fell on him with ferocity. 'Alive' did not mean necessarily unharmed. In a short time he was unconscious and being carried off to meet his fate, which was to be a cruel one.

Sirius Black had been betrayed.

:::

West of that deception, the darkness was already sidling in. Autumn was doing its best to stay bright but the shortening days were all too noticeable. A chill breeze sent dry leaves skittering and dancing down the grey London street, against the warm lighted shop fronts and into corners to swirl meaningless patterns with the gathered dust. The outdoor traders had long since packed up, the discarded petals and paper bags of their trade left to join the whirling.

Lupin turned up the collar of his brown coat as he crossed the road. He was of middling to tall height and utterly indistinguishable from the office workers and shop assistants who surrounded him. He had brown hair, brown eyes that crinkled just a little at the edges and a just-noticeable pale scar on the bridge of his nose. A tightly-furled umbrella sat in his left hand. His air and demeanour spoke of an earnest civil servant; five day week and perhaps model trains at the weekends. Anyone would pass him by without a second glance.

Smiling faintly, he entered a building whose discreet brass sign proclaimed it to be iUniversal Exports/i. A brief nod to the receptionist and then he was in the lift at the back of the foyer. It had smooth stainless steel sides unblemished by buttons but took him swiftly upwards nonetheless. Seconds later, he was stepping out onto the deep red carpet of the headquarters of British Intelligence.

The secretary to the head of the Secret Service looked up with a smile. Percy Weasley, serious and officious behind horn-rimmed glasses, was a red-headed barrier between M and the rest of the world.

'The old man's waiting for you, Lupin,' he said. 'Serious business.'

'Thank you, Weasley.'

Lupin hung his coat on the old coat stand in the corner – God only knew how long that had been there – and pushed open the familiar padded door. It clicked shut behind him, sealing the room for complete privacy.

The head of British Intelligence has always been a mysterious figure, masked behind the enigmatic epithet of M. It is a title and responsibility handed from man to man among the hidden, twisted corridors of the British Secret Service. The man who greeted Lupin, Sir A- D-, was tall and white-haired with a divertingly genial smile. He played boules on the weekends and enjoyed chamber music but his work was done hidden away in his office, organising and manipulating affairs of state both near to home and a world away. His wizarding connections and practices were even more secret but had helped make his tenure as head of British Intelligence one of the most successful ever. His handful of wizard secret agents – grouped together as MI7 (Magical Intelligence, not Military, but the distinction between was unnecessary when dealing with the muggle services) – were his proudest achievements. Papers which passed under those fingers transformed to actions miles away. M was a powerful man and a devious one, not that it showed in those clear blue eyes. He regarded Lupin with a twinkling and paternal gaze.

'Good evening, Remus. How are you?'

Lupin sat opposite him. 'As well as ever. Yourself?'

'The same.' Necessary chitchat concluded, M pushed a file across the desk. 'I have a job for you.'

'I didn't think you'd invited me for tea and cakes.'

Lupin opened the file. The face that gazed up at him was handsome, with thick hair above a serious pair of eyes. There was a charismatic cast to the face that Lupin guessed would be much more pronounced in person. The lips were full but the mouth had a cruel twist, almost but not quite disguised by the man's smile. Lupin read the name on the file: Tom Riddle.

'He's a Russian citizen,' M told him.

'With a name like Riddle?' asked Lupin. 'A defector?'

'His father was English. That's why he wants to move here, so he says. But we don't want him.'

'Communist?'

'Of course. A powerful one at that. Let him in over here and there's no telling what he could get up too. He's a clever, if twisted man and he has the gift of convincing people. Give him a room full of nice, ordinary people and he'll have them marching on Parliament within a week. And he's not alone either; he runs his own organisation, it seems, known as the Death Eaters.' M raised an eyebrow. 'His choice in names alone should be enough to show his lack of taste.'

Lupin pulled a face with half a smile.

'He's also a wizard,' M continued, 'and, again, a powerful one too. Given time we'd have a fully-fledged Dark Lord on our doorstep and that we most emphatically don't want. We let him gain the merest toehold here and we'll never be rid of the man.'

'I see why we don't want him. Can't we just refuse him entry without the subterfuge?'

M's face turned a little more solemn. 'We suspect that he has some sort of back-up plan for that inevitability. Rumour is that he's already bought some sort of mansion or castle up in the north, which smacks of confidence. I don't believe he will take no for an answer. The little we learnt last time we sent someone out told us a bit about what sort of man he is.'

'The last time you sent someone, sir?'

'We sent Black out there last month,' said M gravely. 'We found what was left of him three days ago. Wrapped in a curtain, of all things, and dumped in the Moskva river.'

Lupin shuddered. 'That's too bad, sir.'

'He was a good agent,' said M.

'He was a good man.'

'We need you to carry on where he left off,' M continued, pulling another file from his desk drawer. He passed it over. 'It seems there is a defector among Riddle's ranks and he wants to talk to us.'

Lupin opened the folder. A photograph stared back at him, black eyes blank on the print. The man had a long thin face, framed with hair that was too long to be fashionable and too unkempt to be vain. Lupin's eyes were drawn to the nose, which dominated the face like a canker. He wondered what it would look like in profile; whether it would be Roman and noble or simply crude and ugly. The face scowled at the camera with unconcealed disdain and suspicion.

'Severus Snape,' M told him. 'He's the man you'll be meeting in Moscow.'

Lupin flicked through the pages. Severus Snape, born of an English father and Russian mother, had grown up in poverty in a small village out on the Russian plains. At some point during his teenage years he had left the village, and his mother, to move to the city. He had been a clever boy; one who should have done well in the Communist system, where a poor background should never hold anyone back. And he had done well. Lupin remarked on it as he flicked through the young Snape's employment records.

'He is brilliant,' said M. 'Extraordinarily clever. But he's nasty too. He was promoted quickly all right; he reported his superiors for their indiscretions, minor or otherwise. And while they got hauled off he got their jobs. Not one for making friends, this Comrade Snape.'

'How did he end up in Riddle's organisation?'

'Came under the influence of one Lucius Malfoy. Snape's a wizard – we think his mother may have been a witch – and Malfoy was probably the first to approach him about using his magic for "better things." Malfoy comes from a family of old money and old magic but they managed to survive the revolution. Abraxas, Lucius's father, was a cunning old stoat who knew which way the winds were blowing on that one. Lucius is one of Riddle's inner circle; one of the most trusted. He came across the young Snape, saw his potential and recruited him.'

'For the glorious cause of Tom Riddle?' asked Lupin, his tone derisive.

'Couched in the appropriately revolutionary terms, yes. Snape was, at least, something of an idealist. If he'd been there in 1917 he'd have been at the forefront of the revolution shouting "Death to Capitalists". He's got the sort of intellectual mind that discussed Marxism with Lenin in the times before the October Revolution. So given the chance to really do something suited to his intellectual and magical capabilities Snape jumped at the chance.'

'Changed his mind now, has he?'

'Several years under Riddle's command haven't agreed with him, shall we say. And he's clever enough to have worked out that Riddle is up to much more than he lets on. I'm afraid that youthful idealism rather gave way to a rather jaded adult outlook.'

Lupin flicked through some more pages. 'So we've got a disenchanted - what did you call them? - Death Eater who's too clever by half. Does he know much about Riddle's operation?'

M nodded. 'Apparently. Though he's understandably cagey about whom he tells.' He sighed. 'And for some reason he really didn't get on with Black when we sent him out there.'

'So if we don't get on I could end up dead?' asked Lupin, raising an eyebrow. 'I don't like those odds, sir. If he takes a dislike to me...'

'Then you'd better make sure he doesn't, Remus. We've considered this one very carefully and decided that you're the best man for the job.'

'What's he getting out of helping us?'

'A free ticket here and a British passport. Most of all he wants out of Riddle's organisation. It's the kind of thing that once you're in there's no getting out again.'

'Except in a long box.'

'Precisely.'

Lupin skimmed the rest of the file. There was not much more to learn. Tobias Snape had been a sailor who, washing up on some Russian shore, had ended up in the arms of Yelena Knyaz, the daughter of a formerly aristocratic family (the words 'possible magical lineage' had been scrawled in the margin). They had had a son, Severus, but before he had reached his teens the boy's father had left the country and left behind both wife and son. The man lived up in the north of England now, in one of the poky little mill towns that dotted that area of the country. The son had never made any attempt to contact his father leaving Lupin to assume that whatever Snape wanted to move to England for, it was not a family reunion.

'He said that he'll find you,' said M. 'We've told him your sign. You can expect him within the first few days.'

To be continued...


	2. A Bar With A Reputation

**Title:** Red Serpent (2/12)

**Pairing:** Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

**Rating:** R/NC-17

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 3795 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

I forgot to put this on the last chapter (haven't posted in a genfic area in ages) but this is a SLASH fanfiction. There will be somewhat graphic male/male relations. You have been warned.

:::

Chapter 2: A Bar With A Reputation

The hotel room was as Lupin could have expected. The carpet was of a durable roughness, many times cleaned and varying in hue across the room. There was a double bed, a bedside cabinet with a hideous lamp, a wardrobe whose hinge might as well have been made of cardboard and a surprisingly spacious en suite bathroom. Nothing luxurious or inspiring, but it would do.

Flipping open his suitcase, Lupin carefully palmed the item Q had given him before leaving. He proceeded to wander apparently aimlessly around the room, giving the pictures on the walls a cursory examination and gazing out of the window. Every so often the little thing would vibrate against his palm, which meant that there was some sort of surveillance in place there and Lupin would have to watch what he said. The device didn't buzz once in the bathroom, to his pleasant surprise. Satisfied, he put the thing back among his socks. The device itself was not unlike a child's Sneakoscope but without the exuberance and with a more specific purpose. It had the additional advantage of being undetectable by the very things it was detecting.

Lupin pushed off his shoes and lay back on the bed, hands linked behind his head. It was going to be a tricky adventure, he mused. The possibility of Riddle tracing any magic use back to him was too great. He was going to have to carry out this mission Muggle-style until such time as he had no choice. He didn't mind too much. Born half-Muggle, he knew the Muggle world as well as he did the wizarding. He was also no stranger to working without magic, though it always seemed odd not to use it for all the little things that made life that much easier. M, however, had been adamant and Lupin understood the reasons why. Better a creased shirt than never being able to wear a shirt again.

He sighed, rolling onto his side. He would go out soon and give Severus Snape a chance to contact him. He had travelled and booked into the hotel under a false name as it was likely that Riddle already knew his name. M had had a confident twinkle in his eye when he assured Lupin that Snape would find him. 'He's a clever man and he knows you're coming,' the old man had said. Lupin's return question about Riddle's intelligence had been answered with the assurance that Riddle would not be expecting him. Lupin remained sceptical. They were placing rather a lot of trust on the shoulders of this Severus Snape and one man had already been lost on this mission. Perhaps, Lupin pondered, M had his eye on Snape as a recruit for his Magical Intelligence department. There were precious few of them - only the best were recruited, after all - and there was not a large base of suitable wizards to start with. Knowing the limitations that being a werewolf laid on him, having to take a day or two off every month, Lupin had been surprised that he had been selected. Then again, M had found uses for a werewolf. If Snape proved both trustworthy and capable he could be an ideal candidate. Lupin snorted and pushed himself to sit up against the padded headboard. He hadn't even met the man yet and already he was employing him within the secret service! He reached into his top pocket for a cigarette, deciding to smoke some time away.

The sky outside had darkened considerably by the time Lupin pulled on his coat and went out. No rain threatened, thankfully, but a stiff breeze tugged at the flaps of his coat. It was cold and Lupin hoped he wouldn't have to wander around for too long. Catching a glimpse of a dark figure following him from the hotel, Lupin smiled a little. No, it wouldn't be too long.

:::

'Do you have a match?'

Lupin looked up. A man stood there, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. It was Snape. The nose was as prominent as the photograph had promised, sticking out from under a fur-lined hat. A full-length, dark-coloured greatcoat was wrapped around him.

'I use a lighter,' Lupin replied, taking it out of his breast pocket.

'Better still,' said Snape, taking it from him and lighting his cigarette with a flash of yellow flame that briefly illuminated the ridges of his face.

'Until they go wrong.'

'Exactly.'

The exchange was completed. They looked at each other for a moment, each sizing the other up, and then Snape took the cigarette from his mouth and sent a perfect stream of smoke past Lupin's ear.

'This way,' he muttered, striding off down the street.

His accent was heavy and it took Lupin a few moments to understand exactly what had just been said. He hurried to catch up with the figure in its flapping greatcoat. Nothing was said as Snape led Lupin further into the Moscow darkness. They ended up in a bar; a tawdry, dim place. A portrait of Lenin hung on one wall in a heavy gilt frame. The wallpaper was peeling at the corners, grey and stained yellow with nicotine. No one sat in groups any larger than three, and there were few of those. The clientele also seemed to be exclusively male. Lupin followed Snape to sit at the far end of the bar.

'People disappear from dark corners,' Snape said, indicating some of the tables around the room with a tight nod. It was unclear as to who he was accusing but it was apparent he did not yet trust Lupin.

'So I hear,' said Lupin casually, 'especially in this part of the world.'

'Hmm.' Snape's expression was tight-lipped.

He ordered drinks for them both: vodkas. Lupin couldn't help but feel he was being subtly mocked. They drank them in silence. Snape had removed his hat and looked out at the bar from behind strings of black hair. It was, if possible, even dirtier-looking than Lupin had expected from the photograph. Finally, apparently satisfied (albeit grudgingly) Snape turned back to Lupin.

'So you are the man they've sent. I hope you've more competence than that last imbecile.'

Something inside Lupin growled. Sirius had been a friend. 'Black was a good man.'

'He still got himself killed,' Snape sneered. 'That should be some indication, should it not?'

'It's a dangerous line of work,' replied Lupin, concentrating on remaining calm. 'It can happen to the best of us.'

'Not you, though. Yet.' Snape eyed Lupin. 'Let us hope that is an indication of some intelligence. And before you ask, because I know you are thinking it, I had nothing to do with Black's death.'

'Why would I be thinking that?'

Snape gave Lupin a long, hard look. 'Can we establish that we are both intelligent men and saying things like that is a waste of time?'

Lupin smiled coldly. 'So what happened to him?'

'Dear crazy Bella. You've heard of her?'

'A little.'

'She enjoyed it too. She's that sort of person. Coldest bitch this side of Siberia.'

Snape sucked at his cigarette like he held a grudge against it. He scowled at the air in front of him where the smoke swirled until it dissipated.

'You aren't a fan of hers then,' Lupin commented.

'I am not,' Snape sneered, 'a fan of many of my fellow ... fellows. I would have thought you would be quite glad of that, yes?'

'Speaking of them,' said Lupin, sending more covert glances around the bar, 'will they not be curious as to why you are talking to an Englishman in such an out-of-the-way sort of place?'

A smirk curled its twisting way across Snape's mouth. He favoured Lupin with a long gaze, those black eyes sweeping across the other man's face in appraisal. He was apparently amused by what he saw.

'Well,' he began, stroking one long finger down his nose, 'my ifriends/i are more than aware of my, how to say, proclivities. They will not be at all surprised to find me in a bar with a, ah, reputation with a strange man. You understand what I am saying?'

Lupin's face went suddenly cold. This man was sitting there and practically telling him, bold as brass, that he was a deviant. Had M known what sort of person he had sent him to meet?

'Of course I understand,' he said stiffly.

Snape's smile showed crooked teeth. 'Excellent,' he said softly. 'As long as we understand each other.'

'Do we?' asked Lupin, leaning his back against the bar and forcing himself to remain calm.

'You'd be surprised at what I understand about you,' said Snape calmly.

'Been doing some research, have you?' Lupin couldn't help himself from pushing at the amused calm the man wore like regal robes. 'I gather your boss is rather good on the information front.'

'Not as good as he thinks. He doesn't know much about you. Oh, he knows your name and your occupation but he doesn't know who you are or what you look like. He doesn't know you're here either, let alone anything more about you.'

Lupin crossed his legs slowly, keeping a casual air. 'So what have you found out about me?'

'Some. You'll have to wait and see. I expect you've been told much about me.'

'Some,' replied Lupin, matching Snape's tone. 'As much as my employers have seen fit to tell me.'

They were both silent for a few moments. Lupin's eyes swept the bar again, noticing again how there was a definite lack of female drinkers.

'This place,' he began.

'Is a place where men come to meet other men, yes,' said Snape. 'Which means that there are quite a few people who would like to keep it a secret place untroubled by surveillance, understand? Everyone here has a mutual interest in staying below the radar. None of us would care to sample the hospitality of our esteemed police.'

'Would your boss not bail you out of trouble?'

Snape pursed his lips. 'Probably. Eventually. He wouldn't be very happy about it. I prefer to stay on his good side, if I can. He can be temperamental.'

'Temperamental in what way?'

'Quick to anger. Violent. Vindictive for sure. And he's got quite the sadistic streak.' Snape shrugged a little too casually. 'Not a nice man, for all that he can appear to be one. Those he keeps around him are just as bad, if not worse in some ways - I already told you about Bella. They're his inner circle; the closest to him in the entire organisation. There's Rodolphus Lestrange, Bella's husband, his brother Rabastan, and Lucius Malfoy.' Snape's voice had dropped to little more than a murmur as he gave Lupin the names. 'I haven't made it that far up the hierarchy. All men are equal - hah! Riddle only believes that when it suits him.'

'You sound a little bitter about that,' commented Lupin dryly.

'I know I'm cleverer than most of them put together. But I don't have the influence that the others do, so I haven't been as important to him.' Snape signalled to the barman for another drink, continuing only when the man had returned to the other end of the bar. 'I'm useful because I'm clever but I'm not important. Not to him.'

An ambitious man, Lupin realised. A man with his ambitions thwarted and stymied who had, in his frustration, turned traitor in revenge. Lupin wondered whether this was Snape's only reason for turning against Riddle.

'Is that why you're working against him?' he questioned softly, keeping his tone mild. 'Because you aren't getting the recognition you think you deserve?'

Snape's eyes narrowed. 'Do you think I'm that shallow?' He sighed. 'Please assure yourself that I do indeed have my reasons for this and that they are not all entirely self-serving.' He smirked. 'Only some of them.'

The corner of Lupin's mouth twitched. He glanced along the bar, noticing that there were more people at it than previously. The barman moved no faster but no one was complaining. It was a quiet, furtive place. There were more people in the room too now, though it could hardly have been called busy before. He flicked his attention back when Snape moved beside him, and was suddenly a little unnerved by the man's actions.

Snape laid a bony hand on Lupin's thigh, leaning his upper body across at an angle. Cigarette smoke rolled from his nose in two streams to dissipate into the fug that already surrounded them both. The pressure on Lupin's thigh increased and Snape's nose brushed his cheek.

'There are too many people here,' Snape murmured, directly into Lupin's ear. 'I suggest that we move this discussion elsewhere.'

'Another bar?' asked Lupin.

'Your hotel room,' said Snape coolly.

He turned his face away from Lupin to take another drag from his cigarette. Thin lips pursed slightly as he inhaled and the black eyes closed for a moment, savouring its taste. Then a small black slit of mouth opened and tendrils of smoke curled out in the most delicate of spirals. Snape's eyes half-opened and glanced sideways at Lupin.

'Well?' he asked, dispelling the filigree patterns that had gathered around his mouth.

Lupin steeled himself and slid a hand across to rest against Snape's back. He could feel a tension there that was not betrayed by the steady hands and smooth voice. 'Let's go,' he said.

He thought that for the briefest moment a smile had flicked the corners of that thin mouth up but it was gone as Snape pushed himself upright. The Russian turned on his stool before sliding elegantly off it and heading for the door, not so much as turning his head to see if his companion followed. Lupin did so, admiring the brash confidence with which Snape moved. He had seen many good operators in his time and Severus Snape – cool, bold and clever – was shaping up to be one of them. Time would tell though, he cautioned himself. Double agents were always to be handled with care; already being traitors to one side made their loyalties always questionable. And there was also his apparent homosexuality to consider. What sort of man would he be in the field?

They took a taxi across town. Snape leaned forward to tell the driver their destination in a quick burst of Russian. He sat back again as they drove off.

'You know where I'm staying?' asked Lupin in English, not mentioning that he had seen Snape follow him from the hotel.

'But of course,' came the enigmatic reply.

They went the rest of the way in silence. The lights were on in Moscow and their glittering brightness distracted from its usual grey dullness. Small flakes of snow were in the air and were quickly knocked aside by the taxi's battered windscreen wipers. The cab itself was rattling and shuddering like it had little more to give. Lupin's eyes were drawn to the obvious repairs to the floor by his feet, apparently constructed with tarpaulin and electrical tape. Life was not so rosy in the glorious Soviet empire.

Snape sat straight upright, unperturbed by the occasional bangs of the engine misfiring. When the taxi arrived at the hotel he gestured at Lupin to pay the driver. Lupin did so, stepping out of the taxi with a certain feeling of relief. On the street in front Snape paused and caught Lupin's sleeve with one long hand.

'Surveillance?' he asked.

'Some,' said Lupin, 'though not in the bathroom.'

Snape smiled as they walked through the lobby doors. 'Perfect.'

They rode up in the lift in silence. The carpet, once a bright red, had dark worn-out patches from the traffic of so many people's feet. Lupin shifted his own feet on it, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The lift jerked to a stop with a ding. Snape led the way to Lupin's room with long strides, stopping with a smirk to allow Lupin to open it.

'What, not copied my key as well?' Lupin asked before he pushed the door open.

'Not yet.' Snape followed him in. 'I thought that would be rude, for a first meeting.'

He shrugged his black coat from his shoulders and slid it off long arms. He draped it over the back of a chair. Lupin pulled off his own overcoat and threw it to the same place. It slid a little, almost dropping to the floor in an untidy heap. Lupin caught it, laying it neatly over Snape's before loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.

'So what do we do now?' he asked.

'I would rather enjoy a shower,' replied Snape, leading the way into the bathroom with a rather imperious sideways glance.

The fittings, as Lupin had noted before, were as utilitarian as was to be expected, in stained white porcelain. The shower was old but made plenty of noise. With it running and the door shut not even the most sophisticated of listening devices in the next room could have picked up a single word. Lupin seated himself on the closed toilet lid. Snape leaned against the sink, lighting a cigarette with a flash of flame. It was his lighter, Lupin realised suddenly, wondering just when Snape had pinched it.

'So,' said Snape, 'where were we?'

Lupin had the distinct impression that Snape remembered exactly where their conversation had left off in the bar and was using the opportunity to test him. Two could play at that game, he thought. Time to lead with a forehand stroke.

'We were discussing you,' he replied evenly, 'and your motives.'

'Of course.' Snape inclined his head, face dipping briefly behind lank curtains of hair. 'I am, naturally, flattered by your interest in me.'

A backhand return, no doubt about it. Lupin volleyed back, straight at the centre.

'Why did you come to us? Do you have no belief in your glorious Communist state?'

Snape's fingers twitched around his cigarette. 'I did.'

'But not anymore.' Lupin raised an eyebrow. 'Why?'

'Because,' said Snape, crossing his legs right over left and blowing out an elegant stream of smoke, 'Communism doesn't work. It doesn't work because people are stupid and people are greedy. The stupid people quickly find themselves screwed over by the opportunistic grabbing bastards who, through being a little cleverer in such matters and a lot more ambitious, have elbowed their way into the positions of power.' He sighed. 'It is a brilliant idea intellectually, of course, but it fails to take into account the imbecility of people.' He snorted. 'I eagerly await the bourgeois, capitalist hellhole of Britain.'

'It's still got greedy, grabbing bastards.'

'Ah, but at least they are not pretending otherwise. I would rather a hundred fat businessmen than one over-important factory owner.'

Lupin smiled. 'Talk to me about Riddle.'

'Most of what you need to know I would think your bosses will have provided. He is clever, dangerous and ambitious. Russia is too small for him. It is a big country, yes, but its potential is too small. He is unscrupulous, can be incredibly cruel and is a total bastard.'

'Yet you still joined him.'

'Sometimes the world needs bastards.'

'And what was Black's plan? It obviously didn't go very well.'

'Ah, yes, speaking of bastards...' Snape snorted. 'It would have gone just fine had the idiot listened to me.' He held up a hand as Lupin tried to protest. 'Yes, I know one should not speak ill of the dead but the man was a fool. An arrogant, stuck-up, conceited fool. If he had followed my instructions maybe he wouldn't be dead now.' He paused. 'Or maybe he would. I am still a little unclear as to how much Riddle was expecting of that attack.'

'Attack?' asked Lupin. He was fuming inside at the slights to his dead friend but kept his exterior polite.

Snape nodded. 'Poison,' he said. 'But, thanks to Black's bungling, not enough. I know about poisons, I would have succeeded, but Black's insistence on it being his task and his subsequent incompetence blew that one.' His mouth twisted. 'Still, it made all of Riddle's hair fall out. A rather entertaining consequence, at least.'

'But not worth Black's life.'

Snape shrugged. 'I suppose not.'

Lupin nearly hit him. He managed to contain the urge into an involuntary twitch in his right hand.

'I told him,' Snape continued, 'that Riddle knew his way with poisons. The man has a giant pet snake, for God's sake. But Black never wanted to listen to me. Clearly, I was beneath him.'

Lupin bit down the retort he wanted to give. 'And you haven't tried killing him again?'

'Somewhat understandably, he's tightened his security since. Besides, I think he's working on something big.' Snape stubbed out his cigarette on the porcelain behind him. It left a mark; a brown-black smudge like a filthy fingerprint. 'I say think. I mean, I know that he is. I don't know details. I probably shouldn't know anything about it at all but word gets around. I am good at finding things out. I can make people tell me things.'

'Ve haf vays of makink you talk?' asked Lupin with a faint grin.

Snape glared at him. 'Are you mocking me?'

'Perhaps a little,' said Lupin. He smiled genially and spread his hands in an appeasing gesture.

That was why M sent him. Snape was clearly touchy and quick to anger. Black, who had quite a volatile personality himself when provoked, had been the wrong person to match up with this prickly Russian. Lupin, by contrast, seemed quiet and unassuming. James Potter, M's chief-of-staff and a good friend of Lupin's, had once described him as 'The Beige Blur' after hearing Stalin's old Party nickname of 'The Grey Blur.' Lupin had laughed politely and, a little time later, persuaded Potter's rotund little secretary to interrupt Potter's evening (a date with that firecracker Miss Evans) with as many unimportant phone calls as possible.

Snape barely seemed mollified, though, and still glared at Lupin.

'So we need more information,' Lupin continued, passing over the joke fallen flat.

Snape nodded slowly. 'We might try Riddle's private meeting room. Only the inner circle are allowed in there usually. If there is anything of importance, it will be there.' He fidgeted slightly, re-crossing his legs left over right and pulling out a fresh cigarette. 'Of course if we're found that'll be it for us.'

'Then we won't be found. When would be the best time?'

'Tomorrow night.' Snape lit his cigarette, pocketing Lupin's lighter with a faint smirk. 'I'll meet you in the hotel lobby at seven. You can buy me dinner.'

To be continued...


	3. Dinner For Two

**Title:** Red Serpent (3/12)

**Pairing:** Remus Lupin/Severus Snape

**Rating:** R/NC-17

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2685 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

I forgot to put this on the last chapter (haven't posted in a genfic area in ages) but this is a SLASH fanfiction. There will be somewhat graphic male/male relations. You have been warned.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It does mean a lot!

:::

They met for dinner as arranged. At seven in the hotel lobby Lupin found Snape in one of the worn red velvet chairs, encircled in smoke. He stood smoothly as Lupin arrived and straightened his tie. It was black, though not a black that quite matched the jacket. His shirt was a pale grey; the sort of grey that used to be white but has gone grubby with age and infrequent washing. Lupin suddenly felt a lot smarter than he had when he had dressed himself earlier. His brown suit was not exactly new and was a little floppy with wear but was a lot better than Snape's.

'I booked a table,' he said, 'and I dare say my company will foot the bill.' He smiled at Snape, though he wasn't really sure why.

Snape fairly sneered back. 'Just as well. I don't think mine would.'

The meal was fairly simple to Lupin's tastes. According to Snape, though, it was at least a little better than where he usually ate. Their talk was of little consequence, ever aware as they were of the possibility of eavesdroppers.

By the time the main course came Lupin had learnt that Snape did not like to talk about his parents and, if given the chance to visit England, would certainly not look to meet up with his father.

'It was probably the best thing that bastard ever did, leaving,' Snape said, spearing a potato with a deftly wielded fork.

He told Lupin a little about the countryside where he had grown up, though his words were edged with such bitterness that Lupin was almost sorry he had asked. Young Snape had been more than glad to leave behind the country for the precision of the factories and the neatness of the city.

'I had never left the village before,' Snape explained, 'and the city was like nothing I'd seen. My father - rot his soul - occasionally told us about the cities and towns of England but only when,' he snorted in derision, 'icheerfully/i drunk so he never made much sense. He wouldn't talk about them when sober or angrily drunk, which was his usual state when inebriated. Still, I supposed they had to be better than where we lived because he left us readily enough to go back there.'

Lupin made a sympathetic noise but Snape ignored him.

'The factories - they were something else. Great industrial symphonies composed for percussion.' His hands conducted grandiosity in the air with long, slender fingers. There was the rhythm of a piston, the smooth line of a conveyor belt and the bass rumble of machine in the movement. 'Huge-scale - or so I thought at the time, anyway - mass production. Everything turning out the same in an endlessly repeating pattern. Safe and orderly.' He laughed harshly, hands dropping to the table. 'But then, of course, you look closer and see that it's not as in order as you think and it is run by idiots.'

'Most things are like that once you look close enough,' commented Lupin.

Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Even your British government?' he asked in a low voice.

Lupin chucked. 'Oh, of course.' He leaned closer to keep their conversation confidential. 'They may be a lot of fools at times but they're our fools and if we don't like them we can just vote another set in.'

'Ah, democracy,' Snape said. He smiled and bent towards Lupin. 'Not a system I will argue with if it produces such fine men as you.'

Lupin jerked back and Snape laughed. A waiter came by to remove their plates and Snape insisted they at least look at the dessert menu. It was not often, he confided to Lupin after the waiter had gone, that he was treated to dinner.

'As I recall you invited yourself,' said Lupin dryly.

'You don't get anything if you don't grab for it when you can,' Snape countered.

'That's quite a depressing life philosophy.'

'Only if you let it be. Besides, there's nothing wrong with depressing philosophies. Haven't you ever read any Russian literature?'

'Can't say I have.'

'Uncultured Englishman.' Snape gave a faintly haughty sniff. 'I shall have to educate you, I see. Never mind; I'm sure I can make even Tolstoy's epics seem a walk in the park.'

Lupin looked up from the tablecloth to see Snape's eyes, half-veiled by eyelashes, on his. His elegant hands were folded under his chin as he regarded Lupin. A corner of his mouth turned up at the examination.

'Must you look at me like that?' Lupin demanded.

The other side of Snape's mouth mirrored its twin. 'Yes, I must,' he replied. 'What do you suppose everyone here thinks we are meeting for? This is hardly the best of hotels.' He leaned across the table, one hand encroaching onto Lupin's half. 'Would you rather they knew the truth?'

Lupin opened his mouth to snap out a reply but was surprised into silence by a foot gently rubbing his ankle. Snape leaned back into his chair with what was rapidly becoming a smirk and continued to caress Lupin's leg under the table. Dessert came and was eaten in silence, Lupin quickly moving his feet back and away.

They ended the meal with darkly bitter coffees. Snape stood as soon as they had finished, almost but not quite brushing Lupin's hand as he did.

'It would be nice to take a walk, don't you think?' he said, more for the benefit of anyone listening. His eyes were alight with amusement as he looked at Lupin, though it showed nowhere else on his dour face.

'I suppose it would,' Lupin agreed.

They walked from the restaurant together, Snape just a little too close. Once they had collected their coats from the cloakroom and were out in the cold night air Lupin turned on Snape.

'Must you be so brazen?' he asked, perhaps a little more venomously than he intended.

Snape laughed. 'Brazen? Oh, I like that word. I'll take it as a compliment.' He slid his arm through Lupin's, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. 'And yes, I must. Do not forget your position here is delicate. Better, surely, a filthy homosexual than a dead spy.'

Lupin snatched his arm free. 'No wonder Sirius didn't get on with you,' he muttered.

'And look what happened to him.'

Lupin gave Snape a disgusted look and they carried on in silence. Rows of buildings passed with little to distinguish them in the darkness. Few people were out; even fewer once Snape led them down narrower streets with plentiful alleys. The breath of the city was in these branchways; old, a little fetid and betraying an illness. The city breathed quietly at night; all her parts sleeping or quietly pumping away, enough to keep her alive. Her heart beat enough electricity to keep the roads lit and clear while her brain dreamt enough to set parts twitching in occasional nightmares.

Snape stalked along like some predator of the night, greatcoat billowing like dark wings and glowing cigarette end providing a devil's eye. He scowled, but that was nothing unusual. Lupin was beginning to wonder if that was merely his default expression. Snape caught Lupin looking and raised an eyebrow. Lupin looked away hurriedly and didn't look again. He was, therefore, taken by surprise when Snape suddenly grabbed him and shoved him into the side of an alley.

The wall was cold and unforgiving as Lupin was pushed against it. Snape wrapped himself round him like some great snake, coiling around and taking hold. His hands cradled Lupin's head.

'One of them is coming,' he informed Lupin in a whisper, 'if he stops to talk try to keep your face in my shadow. And at least hold me as if you are enjoying it.'

With a jerk of his head akin to the darting move of a striking snake he pressed his lips to Lupin's. They were dry, Lupin discovered, and not altogether unpleasant. When he opened his mouth Lupin could taste the cigarette Snape had been smoking a few moments before. His arms came up to hold the other man.

'Really, Severus,' a voice drawled in Russian, 'do you have to do that in public?'

Snape pulled his lips away from Lupin's, keeping his head between those of the Englishman and the interrupter.

'It's such a lovely night, Lucius,' he replied. 'Why should I not enjoy it as well as I can?'

'I'm sure the police would be interested in the information were you to take your enjoyment further.'

'I'm sure your wife would be interested in certain information, were I to take that to her.'

Malfoy's face screwed up and he spat on the floor by Snape's foot. 'You disgust me,' he hissed, turning on his heel and marching off.

Snape brought his face to rest alongside Lupin's. 'One of our lord's most trusted men,' he informed him, 'and arrogant with it. But we fucked once and he doesn't want his wife to know.'

'Was he any good?' Lupin muttered back, his hands moving restlessly on Snape's waist.

'No.' Snape's lips curved into a smile. 'Fumbling is, I think, the word to describe it. Too proud to admit he didn't know what he was doing and certainly not going to let me show him what to do.'

Lupin snorted. 'Has he gone?'

Snape turned his head to gaze down the street. 'Yes.'

'Good.' Lupin shoved Snape off him. 'Let's get on with this.'

'Of course,' Snape drawled, straightening his coat.

He glanced down the alley they were at the mouth of. It disappeared into darkness far quicker than Lupin was comfortable with. The rank smell of it seemed to lie across his tongue and push down his throat; a vile taste of unclean poverty. It was like a fetid breath of warning before brickwork teeth closed with a snap. A rat scampered out of the shadows and darted past them, brushing over Lupin's toe. He drew his foot back instinctively, disgust crossing his face before he stifled the reaction. Snape chuckled.

'Plenty more like him around,' he said. 'This way, I think. It's best we stay out of sight now.'

He headed straight down the alley, black coat quickly vanishing into the waiting shadows. Lupin followed more by the sound of Snape's boots on the ground than by sight. It was an overcast night without a moon and no streetlamps to expose the hidden little alley. Occasionally they would pass a lighted window and Lupin would catch Snape's distinctive profile in the dim glow but for the most part the journey was in darkness. Lupin very consciously did not think about the occasional squelches beneath his shoes. A couple of things squeaked as his feet touched them and he kicked them away hastily.

Several turnings and alleys later - which he diligently memorised as they went along - they came out onto a road. Lupin blinked in the light, quickly glancing from left to right. There were no vehicles in sight, only filthy tracks where they had passed along furtively themselves along at some previous time, no doubt eager to be gone. Only a few people were about, walking hunched against the cold. None of them seemed to pay any attention to the two men standing there. Snape flicked his cigarette to the pavement and crushed it out beneath his boot.

'That is his place,' muttered Snape, indicating an unremarkable building on the other side of the road.

It was one of the older buildings in the city; not a concrete box with less soul than its designers, but not the most ornate either. A red star was set above the door but no sign denoted the building's purpose. No one would look at this place twice, thinking it just another paper-pushing governmental office. In any case, no one would ask questions. Questions were dangerous.

'We'll go in the back way,' said Snape. 'I have no good reason to be there, particularly at this hour. And you have no reason at all.'

Lupin simply nodded his agreement and followed. Snape turned directly left out of the alley and headed up the road until they were some distance from their destination. Only then did they cross the road and head back into the dark backstreets. Lupin was starting to wonder how Snape knew them that well. In a little time they were slipping in by a back door ('the one the cleaners use,' according to Snape) and creeping down a utility corridor.

'Where are we heading?' whispered Lupin.

'The conference room,' replied Snape. 'It's where all the most secret meetings are held and very few people are ever allowed in. If there's anything to discover, it'll be there.'

'Have you ever been in there?'

'Once.'

Snape was pale, Lupin realised, paler than usual. Nervous, he supposed, though it wasn't betrayed in any other way. There hadn't been so much as a tremble of a finger the whole time, just a waxy pallor under the lank strings of hair. Given the consequences, of course, Lupin realised that the man had good reason to worry. He, Lupin, was just a spy; Snape was a traitor.

The utility corridor ended in a door, which Snape opened a crack and peered out of before opening it further and motioning Lupin to follow him.

'There's never usually anyone around at this time as far as I've seen,' he said softly. 'Come on.'

He led Lupin quickly to a padded door. Lupin was reminded of the door to M's office and supposed what happened behind both was fairly similar really. Snape indicated an unlit red bulb above the door.

'If anything was going on in there it would be on,' he said. 'He hates to be disturbed.'

He still opened the door cautiously, though, peering through the gap before opening it fully and beckoning Lupin to follow him. They had only just closed the door behind them when footsteps approached from around the corner in the corridor they had just left. It was more than one pair of feet too, judging by the sound. Snape's head whipped up in sudden alarm.

'They're coming in here,' he muttered. 'There's nowhere else down this way.' He spat out a word Lupin didn't know. It sounded like a curse.

'Is there another way out?' asked Lupin, glancing about. He couldn't see anything useful.

'Quickly!' hissed Snape. 'In here!'

He grabbed Lupin's shoulder and hauled him through a drab-looking door in the corner of the room. It was a broom cupboard, Lupin managed to see just before Snape pulled the door shut and the light was gone. There was little enough room for one person, let alone two adult males. Lupin stood as far back towards the wall as he could but it didn't help.

'Do you have to hide?' he whispered. 'There's not much space.'

'It would be very suspicious if I were to be discovered just casually 'hanging around' in there. It's strictly for the inner circle only; an honour I have not yet achieved.' He shifted slightly against Lupin. 'Of course, if they are to have a meeting this could be a fortuitous coincidence. We may hear something to our advantage.'

'Doesn't stop it being damned uncomfortable,' muttered Lupin, wishing that the other man was not quite so close. It simply was not decent.

'Afraid you'll catch something?' Snape whispered back with a sharp edge of sarcasm. 'Be still. If you knock something over we'll be the proverbial rats in the barrel.'

Lupin saw the sense in that at least and stopped trying to make room for himself in the tiny little space. It was tall enough for the both of them but narrow. Snape had his back to the wall to the right of the door while Lupin, in an effort to avoid the brooms and mops leaning against the opposite wall, was standing about as close to him as it was possible to.

'Not a sound now,' Snape warned in a low whisper, 'they're coming in.'


	4. Small Spaces and Close Encounters

**Title:** Red Serpent (4/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2853 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

**Warning:** This is a work of slash fanfiction and this chapter contains a depiction of male/male relations that those not slashily-inclined may take offence at. You have been warned.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed. Not quite a flood but it'll do. Maybe this chapter will get your juices flowing…

:::

Chapter Four: Small Spaces and Close Encounters

Lupin had only seen the room for a few seconds before being dragged into the cupboard and had only gained a fleeting impression of quiet and drab elegance. Snape had been in there once before but had been rather too occupied by concentrating on Riddle's words and orders to pay attention to décor, a subject that held little interest for him in any case.

If they had taken the time, however, they would probably have been impressed. The room was a pale olive green with dark wood panels all around. Two portraits hung in places of honour, one on each long wall. They were, as would be expected, of Lenin and Stalin, the great leaders. Another portrait hung above the door, depicting the pale countenance of Tom Riddle himself. When the room was occupied those in it would feel surrounded; those two old Bolsheviks to the sides and Riddle at both back and front, when the man himself was seated at his desk.

The desk itself was a magnificent piece of furniture. It was wide and constructed of the same dark wood that panelled the room. Forming a T-shape with it was the long table that stretched down the room. Long wires, attached to small and unnoticeable microphones, ran inside the table and down inside the specially-hollowed legs. Control of the recording was in the desk; concealed buttons in a perfectly ordinary-looking drawer. Four straight-backed chairs stood around the table, their green velvet only a little worn. Three ashtrays were spaced evenly down the table, empty and clean for now, between three full carafes of water.

Riddle entered first, his uniform pressed and immaculate. His bald head gleamed as much as his medals, which lay bright across his chest. The arch of his neck slid out from his collar and curved to a smooth scalp, the faint knobs of his vertebrae the only imperfections on that expanse. They rose and fell beneath the skin as he rolled his head. He settled into the chair at his desk, a lizard awaiting his court.

They arrived shortly after: Lucius Malfoy with the strut of a peacock in his gait; Bellatrix Lestrange on the arm of her husband Rodolphus, though it was all too clear who led whom; and Rabastan Lestrange trailing them awkwardly. They sat, Bellatrix and Rodolphus to Riddle's right and Lucius and Rabastan to his left.

'Greetings, comrades,' Riddle began, including all of them in his gaze.

There was a murmured response from each, carefully oblique and scrupulously polite. None would try to overreach the others in this room. Each knew of the hidden microphones; each however uncertain if the others also knew. Bonds of blood and marriage meant nothing when compared to the importance of cause and self. In this room there was power, but also the threat of losing it. Until the purpose of the meeting was announced there was no knowing what would happen.

'Colonel Umbridge remains sympathetic to us,' Riddle continued. He drew a cigarette from his desk drawer and rolled it slowly between his fingers before flicking a lighter open with a sharp click. He lit the cigarette leisurely, observing as the others watched it before their eyes flitted almost guiltily back to him. 'We will have no trouble from SMERSH.'

SMERSH (a contraction of _Smiert Spionam_ - Death to Spies) was the most secret department of the Soviet government. Those who knew of it feared it. The most powerful woman within it, one of the most powerful in the entire state, was Colonel Dolores Umbridge. Her femininity, however, was not one of her dominant characteristics. Her face squatted on her neck like an elderly toad and her practice of scraping her hair back into a tight bun did nothing to disguise how her skin had started to sag. She cultivated a girlish giggle which emerged from her mouth with the incongruity of a flower from the lipless mouth of a slug. She was not immune to the attentions of a man - perhaps more open than most, such attentions being infrequent for her - and Riddle had easily secured her support with a few smiles and gifts.

'That's good,' said Malfoy carefully. 'Allies are important. Has our transport been arranged?'

'All is prepared,' Riddle told them. 'The boat sails in two days, as planned.'

There were nods and murmurs from around the table. This was good news for this quiet little table of plotters. Their plans, conceived and calculated in careful conspiracy around this wooden table, were finally rolling towards a conclusion. Months of planning and agonies of preparation would at last pay off.

'And when we are there,' asked Rabastan Lestrange, leaning to pour a little more water into his glass, 'what of our entry? How go those plans?'

In the cupboard, Lupin twitched. This was the part of the plan that Snape didn't know about; the part that M would need to know. Riddle had plotted some way for he and his Death Eaters to remain in Britain once they had tiptoed their way in and the only people that knew it were sitting on the other side of the door. Lupin tried to lean closer, determined to hear what he could.

'They progress as we hoped,' Riddle replied. 'Contact has been made and information exchanged.'

'If I may interrupt,' began Malfoy, 'I would say better than we hoped. I ...'

Lupin missed the rest of his interjection as he leaned too far and felt himself starting to overbalance. Snape, distracted from the meeting by Lupin's sudden indrawn breath, caught him awkwardly and pulled him to lean against his own body, which was against the only clear wall in the tiny cupboard. Suddenly face to face with Snape - whose features he could just make out in the dim light that filtered under the door - Lupin found his heart pounding as adrenaline shot through him. Heat flushed his face, only helped by Snape's faintly sour breath brushing across his cheek. Snape's arms moved up to support Lupin's, holding them both steady. Lupin attempted to twist out and stand upright again but Snape's hands tightened and he shook his head. Resigned, Lupin concentrated again on the noises from the meeting room.

There was laughter. Not loud or raucous, but the quiet smug chuckles of people who were getting what they wanted. Even though he knew they couldn't see him, Lupin felt uncomfortable.

'How useful it is when our work is done for us!' declared Rodolphus Lestrange. There were more chuckles.

'We still have work to do,' Riddle reminded them quietly. 'I want Rookwood on it. He knows what he's doing.'

'His set up is already in place,' said Malfoy. 'If events do proceed in that direction he'll be there for it.'

Lupin's head was spinning. He had, it seemed, missed the most important part of the damn meeting. And now, with only scraps of frustratingly oblique conversation, he couldn't piece it together. Especially, he decided, when pressed against the thin body of Snape. The temperature in the cupboard had gone up by several degrees, at least, if the sudden heat in Lupin's cheeks could be taken as evidence. The heat was elsewhere too, curling through his stomach and groin. The arousal was familiar; the shape of the body he held was not. A gentle sigh drifted past his ear and Snape's leg shifted against his. Lupin stiffened, knowing that Snape could now quite easily feel the erection that had inconveniently made its appearance. He looked into Snape's eyes almost unwittingly, reading nothing in the shadows.

There was noise beyond the door. Chairs were moving; the members of Riddle's inner circle were leaving the meeting room. There was a click as the main door was unlocked and opened then the footsteps of five people leaving.

'Let's go,' Lupin growled as soon as he heard the door close.

'Wait,' Snape warned him, tightening his hold on Lupin's upper arms. 'Give them time to leave.' A smirk, just visible in the dimness, bent his mouth. 'Anyone would think you were desperate to get away from me.'

'I want to get out of here before someone finds us,' retorted Lupin. And before I get too comfortable in here, he added silently. The warmth of their two bodies together was becoming increasingly pleasant and Lupin was starting to feel relaxed enough to enjoy the closeness of Snape. That couldn't be right.

They waited for five more minutes. Lupin felt every second in that close little space and his arousal did not abate in the slightest. Snape said nothing but Lupin knew he had noticed. The man had a damnable air of satisfaction about him. It wasn't something he was obviously letting Lupin know but Lupin felt it all the same. Snape moved a leg, stretching a muscle that must have started cramping after holding up both Lupin's weight and his own. Lupin held back a groan as the change brought different pressures against him, fabric sliding across his groin.

Finally, they left the cupboard. The sudden chilly light was too bright after the warm darkness of the cupboard, making them both squint like newborns until their eyes adjusted. Neither said anything beyond the necessary as they left the building and headed for Lupin's hotel, watching always for any followers. It was only when they were safely back in the bathroom - Lupin pacing furiously across the floor as Snape set the shower going to mask their conversation - that anything was said at all.

'You seem restless,' Snape commented.

Lupin's pacing did not even slow as he spat out a reply. 'That could have gone better, don't you think?'

Snape shrugged with infuriating calm. 'Perhaps, perhaps not. But we are alive and unhurt, and they did not see us.'

'We still had to spend all that time cooped up in that little -!'

Snape smirked. 'Ah, I see. So that is the cause of your … frustrations. I see.'

Lupin turned about with a whirl. 'What do you see?' he asked harshly.

With a forward tilt of his head Snape was peering up at Lupin through his hair. 'You were hard for me.'

'Hah! Don't flatter yourself.' Lupin looked away. 'You just happened to be a warm body in proximity. I … get like that on missions.' He bit out the words.

'Yes, you and your famous parade of women.' Snape snorted then leaned forwards towards Lupin. 'But you stayed hard, Lupin.' His voice was soft and sibilant. 'You looked straight at me and knew exactly who I was and you stayed hard. You even remembered you were trapped there pressed up against a homosexual who in all likelihood was enjoying that, ah, "proximity" and you still stayed so hard that I think I will have a bruise to remember it by.'

'You're sure of all that, are you?'

'I know how people think.'

'Even me?'

Snape chuckled. 'You are not a hard – hah, forgive me – I mean, difficult man to understand.' He tucked a strand of hair behind one ear with a long finger. 'Come on, Lupin. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you could never find me sexually attractive.'

Slowly, unwillingly, Lupin raised his eyes from where they had been gazing at the worn floor. His mouth opened to form the first syllables of a phrase that would never pass his lips. He stopped before air could reach his vocal chords, frozen by the cobra gaze that met him.

'Not got anything to say?' said Snape softly.

Dumbness still gripped Lupin by the throat with tight fingers. It seemed impossible that the man's eyes could be so black or that they could stare with such an intensity as if to see into Lupin's soul. The stare never wavered; not in its insinuating mockery, its passion, or its sheer willpower.

'Damn you,' Lupin finally ground out.

Snape smiled and pushed himself away from the sink. Gaze never breaking, he strolled over to Lupin and stopped only when he was chest to chest with him. His hands came up to cup Lupin's face and stroke the hair that was a little grey at the temples. There was still a chill to his fingers – in a Russian winter how could one fully escape the cold? – but Lupin soon forgot that as Snape kissed him.

It was nothing like kissing a woman, he had expected that, but the gentleness of it took him by surprise. He had always supposed such affairs between men to be more rough-and-tumble, to be a striving towards release, not this quiet and almost passive movement. He took Snape's shoulders in his hands and pulled the man closer, stabbing into his mouth with his tongue. The taste of cheap Russian cigarettes filled Lupin's mouth like a bitter pill that he had no choice now but to swallow down. They continued to kiss, nostrils flaring to take in enough air without losing each other's mouths, until Snape's hands slid under Lupin's shirt and Lupin broke the kiss with a yelp.

'Your hands are cold,' he gasped in explanation.

'They'll warm,' said Snape, sliding them up and pressing closer.

He pressed his lips to Lupin's again. His fingers darted, quick and clever, across Lupin's chest: pressing, teasing and pinching in all the right places. Lupin rubbed his hands up and down Snape's back, feeling vertebrae through the thin shirt. His arousal, still rumbling in his veins from earlier, reawakened with enthusiasm and bounded round his body. He wanted this man; wanted something, at least. He pushed more into the kiss, gripping Snape firmly by the waist. Snape smiled against his mouth and slipped a hand inside Lupin's trousers.

Lupin gasped. 'Easy down there...'

Snape chuckled in a low voice. 'Relax. I am not some virgin girl with sharp nails and no idea what she's handling.' He gave a slow twist with his hand. 'I know what I'm doing, Remus.'

It was the way he said it. A long rolling 'r' before an almost plaintive mew that spread out into the wide sibilant 's'. Lupin had never liked his name so much as when it slid across that Russian tongue.

That was enough. Foreplay was for women, he decided. A growl rolled within his chest. He pushed Snape until the man was backed into the bathroom wall and not looking the least bit surprised, damn him. Nor did he react with anything but a smug smile as Lupin ground his hips against him. Frustrated, Lupin grabbed Snape's shoulders, fingers digging in around the bones, and shoved them flat against the wall. Pushing a leg between Snape's - which parted willingly enough, Lupin thought a little cruelly - he thrust against his hand. Snape's eyes fluttered momentarily shut, a minor victory to Lupin, but opened with gleeful cunning gleaming in the darkness. A long hand pulled Lupin's head down for a kiss and a leg slid around the back of Lupin's.

Lupin bucked again, encouraged by the slow drift of Snape's ankle up and down his calf. He was still pressing into Snape's palm, which had warmed considerably and was moving in very pleasing ways. Snape had been right; he really did know what he was doing. Just as Lupin had settled into a comfortable rhythm, however, Snape abruptly pulled his hand away. Lupin, hips still moving, bit at Snape's lip in chastisement but was mollified when that hand was joined by the other in fumbling to unfasten his trousers. It was only a few moments before Snape had their trousers undone and shoved down and his hand curled around both of them.

As simple as it was, that was what Lupin needed. That flesh against flesh, at once familiar and yet unfamiliar, was what he had been craving since they were pressed together warm and secret in that little cupboard. They moved together, back and forth, grabbing at each other and pressing as close as possible. Kissing turned to an open-mouthed mess of intimate contact interrupted by panting and gasping. Pushing as hard against Snape as he could Lupin finally spilled across those long fingers, a haze fogging his eyes.

When his vision cleared he saw Snape, cheeks flushed and red, with eyes shut. Lupin raised a hand to touch his jaw, earning a smile before the eyelids raised.

'Still think this is a horrible idea?' Snape murmured, touching his forehead to Lupin's.

When Lupin hesitated Snape shook his head and kissed him gently.

'Hush.' An idea caused a faint twitch in his smile. 'I think we had better make proper use of that shower.'

Lupin followed him willingly.

Outside, the moon rolled herself high across the sky in a wide arc. The clouds had gone, blown into shreds and thrown to the winds, allowing her to view her midnight domain. Her pitted, cold face gave off nothing but light and her strange, irresistible pull. The wind had picked up and it whisked across rooftops with a sharp, chilly bite. Where the architecture interfered with its passage it howled forlornly like a wolf cast off from its pack.


	5. The Howl Of The Wolf

**Title:** Red Serpent (5/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2779 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**Warning:** Quite graphic descriptions of slash – ie, sex between two men. Enjoy.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

And thank you to WitheringWings for the review – no, no Harry here. Maybe another time.

:::

Chapter Five: The Howl Of The Wolf

The morning dawned with weak and pale beams of sunlight sneaking furtively through the rough fabric of the curtains. It was an ill sort of morning, not settling on any weather in particular but compromising on chilly sunlight and irregular clouds. The room was not quite cold but the bed was certainly warm with two bodies sharing it.

Lupin was already awake as the daylight grew, lying on his side and examining the other man in the bed. Snape also lay on his side, his back facing Lupin with its shoulder blades pointed. It was a skinny back, pale-skinned, and unlike that of any woman Lupin had ever slept with. Not for the first time in that already long morning the Englishman questioned himself and his libido. He knew all too well the effect his work had on him. In his own mind he called it the wolf, the roaring monster that rose up within him to direct his movements to the most primal of actions even at times other than the full moon. Being a werewolf, he had realised, did not limit itself to those times when his bones cracked and reformed, his teeth grew long and his hunger cried out for blood. There was always the hunger, giving flight-or-flight the additional option of fucking. Many a time on a dangerous mission, with adrenaline high, he had relieved himself of the stresses of his task with what seemed a parade of beautiful women. They had been willing and soft or wild and passionate or satisfying at the least, but seemed lukewarm memories next to those of the previous night. The wolf had howled long and loud then.

It was ridiculous, Lupin decided. He was not like Snape; not one of those men. He was normal, at least where sex was concerned. His appetite was simply higher. The close proximity of such a man as Snape and venues where unnatural practices were tolerated, even encouraged, had clearly worked on his mind. He had been high on adrenaline and no women had been around. Snape had been infuriating and provocative and willing. He had as good as bent over and ordered Lupin to fuck him.

Even as the memory of that black-eyed invitation filled his mind Lupin felt the heat of arousal, the first stirring of the beast. He shifted to accommodate it, moving to the almost imperceptible sound of sliding bedclothes. The sheet at Snape's waist slipped a little, exposing valleys of shadow beyond his lower back. Lupin's hand reached out of its own accord – touch, mark, claim, snarled the wolf – to feel the pale skin. It was warm and Lupin found himself chasing the warmth downwards across plains and down valleys to where Snape's body allowed him entrance. There it was no longer simply warmth but heat instead. Lupin's fingers twisted in that curiously giving body.

Snape stirred a little in his sleep, mumbling an incoherency in Russian from behind tumbled hair. His head tilted back a little, exposing a flushed cheek. Lupin continued his exploration, curling his body up behind the sleeping man. His hand came up to rest on Snape's shoulder as he lined his body up to fit with that welcoming spot. Sliding his fingers out Lupin pressed himself in with one solid thrust. The wolf rumbled and Snape's eyes flew open.

'What is -?' he gasped in Russian.

'It's me,' Lupin growled in English.

Snape gave a half-sigh half-grunt and reached one arm up to grab Lupin's head. His leg bent back too, his foot hooking round Lupin's calf. Lupin grabbed a hip and pulled Snape as close as possible. They lay together, quivering, for a few moments before Lupin began to thrust in a brutal fashion. Snape gasped, trembling against the sheets. Their position was not entirely conducive to the frustration Lupin was attempting to exorcise but each successive hip jerk was as violent as he could make it. He was not the kind of man who had these sordid, perverse encounters and the only way he could justify it to the parts of his mind still caring was to do it as fast and harsh as possible. He gave the wolf full rein, riding the growling and barking rush of its rutting.

He rolled them, pushing Snape facedown onto the pillow and dragging his hips up. His hand forced itself into the black hair and snarled tight among the strands. He was close now, so close. It was empowering, being this conqueror. There was glory in this pseudo-rape, this violation of the willing. He – the wolf – was in control here. There was no way he was one of these damned queers!

His hand, clutching across Snape's belly to hold him in place, brushed Snape's leaking cock. The resulting shudders and internal clenching was enough to convince Lupin to grab the rigid organ and squeeze it roughly. Snape's yell was muffled by the pillow as he came, long fingers clutching in the sheets.

Lupin, pulled in by the feeling around his own cock getting tighter and tighter, came a few thrusts later. He shoved the thin body down onto the bed, pushing himself in as hard as he could to wring as much pleasure from the moment as possible. Finally, wrung out and empty with the wolf sated and gone, he collapsed onto Snape's back.

After several minutes of strained and irregular breathing that finally returned to normal Snape pushed at Lupin who took the hint and rolled off, pulling out in the process. He did not miss the wince that ran through Snape's body as he did so, though neither of them mentioned it. Snape reached out a trembling hand for a cigarette from the bedside cabinet. He managed, fumbling, to pick one up but by the time he was sitting up and trying to light a match it was obvious that his hands were shaking far too much to manage it. Lupin took the cigarette and matches from him and, placing the cigarette along with one of his own in his mouth, lit both with a single match. He passed Snape his back and watched as the man sucked on it like the proverbial dying man. Half of it was grey ash before Snape spoke.

'I haven't been woken like that for some time.' He gave Lupin a sideways glance with an unreadable expression.

'I'm not one of you,' was all Lupin said, savagely and bluntly.

:::

Lupin lay back and smoked another cigarette while Snape used the shower. It had only burnt halfway down when Snape came out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his hips.

'You're as skinny as a girl anyway,' Lupin said.

Snape sneered. 'Trying to justify yourself?'

'I'd leave the money on the bed and go but it's my hotel room.' Lupin stubbed out the cigarette abruptly and swung his legs off the bed.

Snape very visibly bit down on whatever he wanted to say. 'You English,' he managed after a moment's pause, 'always so gallant.'

He followed Lupin into the bathroom and shut the door behind them. The shower had been left running and it splashed noisily. Snape fixed Lupin with a dark glare.

'You watch your tongue,' he hissed, 'and I will watch mine.'

'What do you mean by that?' asked Lupin roughly.

'One word from me,' Snape said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the hotel room beyond the bathroom door, 'and the authorities will be taking a little too much interest in you.'

His face and voice were both smug. Lupin was infuriated. He grabbed Snape's bony shoulders tightly.

'Is that what happened to Black?' he demanded, shaking the other man. 'Is that why he ended up in the river?'

Snape said nothing, his face remaining inscrutable and blank. He pushed Lupin's hands away.

'Three o'clock,' he said quietly, 'on the bridge where I met you. Don't be late.' He left, shutting the bathroom door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

Lupin frowned as he got into the shower. His body felt sated; a warm and satisfied ache had settled throughout it. His mind was a different matter. Sharp, jagged thoughts itched and jabbed. Would Snape really make good on his threat to let slip about him? Had the Russian had something to do with Black's death? There was a lot riding on this, at least as far as Lupin was concerned. The Service would cope with losing another agent, of that he was sure, but Lupin would rather stay alive. Damned complicated and contrary Communists!

The hot water wore away at some of the sharper doubts eventually. Snape wouldn't report him or even dare drop a hint where he might be overheard; there would be too much danger for Snape himself. Comforted by this thought, Lupin nonetheless resolved to keep a close eye on the man. Snape seemed genuine enough - even if he had an odd way about him and an even ruder manner - and Lupin didn't doubt that he wanted out of Riddle's organisation. His reasons, once he had given them, seemed genuine. The man hadn't lied to make himself sound better. He had been truthful as far as Lupin could tell.

Lupin rubbed soap into his hair with quick, vicious movements. Damn the man! The mission would be a lot less complicated, Lupin was sure, if it weren't for one Severus Snape.

He breakfasted downstairs starting with bitter black coffee. The breakfast was served in the same room where dinner had been the previous night. Lupin scowled down at the table. He didn't need to see the waiters to know that they were staring at him, especially after Snape's display of last night. The Russian had got what he wanted, all right, and Lupin had hardly been unwilling. He had even instigated this morning's exertions himself. He could hardly help himself, though. Snape was such a damned tease. That business with the footplay at dinner. The way he kept occasionally touching Lupin, usually inappropriately but often with some ridiculous excuse. And the time they had spent in that little cupboard!

They had learned some things of value, at least. Riddle and his followers would be leaving for England the next day by boat. Riddle's specific plans, however, remained frustratingly opaque. It looked like Lupin was going to have to follow them out of the country and play it by ear. Opportunities would arise and he would just have to do his best. At least if Riddle and his cronies got as far as Britain the cavalry would not be so far away. Hopefully there would be chances to discover things and throw a spanner in Riddle's works. Until then, though, he would have to do more work with Snape. He was disconcerted by the anticipation he felt at that prospect.

:::

The bridge was marginally more interesting in the grey daylight. The dark river that flowed underneath chilled Lupin for a moment, remembering what M had told him. Black - in a curtain, the logic of which escaped Lupin entirely - had been pulled out of it somewhere, the frigid water reluctantly giving up its claim on corpse-flesh and cold bones. He must have drifted along for God only knew how long, that handsome face encountered only by fish and water insects unimpressed by its former human beauty. Lupin shuddered and turned from the water. Its secrets, ancient and deep, were not what he was interested in. He leaned his back against the metal railing, folding his arms against the bleak weather. Wind blew down the river, whipping his coat around his thighs.

At precisely three o'clock the greatcoat-clad figure of Snape appeared on the embankment, tilting his head towards Lupin before turning and heading up the river away from the bridge. Lupin pushed himself away from the railing and began to saunter casually in the direction Snape had taken. Soon he was walking in step with the other man and Snape's arm was brushing his. Lupin felt an unexpected warmth at the contact and didn't pull away as he would have expected himself to do. Something of last night's intimacy still remained; it seemed, in glances and awareness. They came to a bench a little way further down the embankment and sat on it side by side, not touching but close. The river waters flowed by in front of them, somehow less cruel than when Lupin had contemplated it earlier. Opacity disguised its depth and waterfowl bobbed on the surface.

'I can't help but feel we should be feeding the ducks,' Lupin muttered, mostly to himself.

Snape gave him a sideways look. 'Why waste the bread?'

Lupin chuckled. 'Oh, don't worry. Just a stray thought. We're not in St. James's Park, after all.'

'I give up.' Snape threw up a hand. 'You English are crazy.'

'Aren't you half English?'

'Half English,' said Snape solemnly, 'not half mad.'

Lupin grinned. 'How are events progressing with your friends?'

'Busily.' Snape pulled out one of his seemingly ever-present cigarettes and sparked his purloined lighter with practised fingers. 'Everybody is preparing for the journey and quite excited about it too. We are going to the capitalist hellhole that is Britain to start a new revolution!' He dragged in a lungful of smoke and sneered. 'It frequently amazes me how stupid people can be.'

Lupin tipped his head to examine the profile of the man beside him. Snape's eyebrows were drawn tightly together as he scowled at the ducks. Deep lines were familiar visitors to that forehead, forming angry creases with practised ease.

'You joined them.'

Snape's head flicked round quicker than Lupin would ever have expected. They stared at each other for a few moments until Snape's eyes began to lose the diamond-hard gleam of anger, dropping it back into the usual deep pits of blackness.

'That was some time ago,' he muttered, 'I was younger and rather more idealistic, shall we say. It's a better word than naive, I think. Lucius Malfoy was handsome and quite sympathetic. I may have been a fool then but I'm not anymore.'

Lupin, eyes looking nowhere but at Snape, privately considered the extent of his own foolishness. No matter how he tried, however, he still concluded that the consequences could go hang, at least for a while.

'So is there any chance of getting in for a snoop around at all?' he asked.

'_Nyet_. It is a madhouse today and there are people everywhere. We would get nowhere, except perhaps into a prison cell. And that only if we were lucky.'

'Well, then.' Lupin leaned back on the bench. 'I suppose we'll just have to find another way to occupy ourselves.'

His hand came to rest on the dark coat sleeve. Snape examined Lupin's face for a few moments before a faint curve graced his thin lips.

'I suppose we had better.'

The train would leave the next morning, rattling and rolling through the chill air. Riddle had reserved one of the carriages for himself and his Death Eaters, the rest being open to normal travellers. From the train there would be a boat, privately hired, for the journey to Scotland. This Lupin would have to stow away on, hiding out of sight. It would be a long and tiring journey but Lupin still held hope for Riddle to somehow slip up or inadvertently open himself to discovery on the way. If, of course, he didn't do so himself first.

Until then, though, the two men had indeed found other activities to fill their time.

It was long gone midnight when Snape finally left Lupin's bed, moving across the floor to retrieve his scattered clothing. Lupin flicked on the bedside lamp, sending golden light to gleam on pale skin. There were marks across it, finger-shaped smudges and ruddy crescents from a biting mouth. Satisfaction rumbled through Lupin as he slipped out from the sheets and came up behind Snape. His hands moved across bare chest before sliding down to cover Snape's hands, which were attempting to fasten his trousers.

'Come back to bed,' Lupin entreated, pushing open-mouthed kisses to the side of Snape's neck.

'I have to go,' Snape protested, though his movements to dress had stopped. 'You know why.'

'You can stay a little longer.'

'No, I can't.'

Lupin pushed Snape's hands aside and quickly undid the buttons he had managed to do up. Snape pulled at Lupin's fingers but with little strength.

'I shouldn't,' he protested, one arm belying his denials and rising up to pull Lupin's head closer.

'We've got time,' Lupin promised, drawing him back to the bed. 'We have all the time in the world.'


	6. To Travel Lustfully

**Title:** Red Serpent (6/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2327 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

:::

Chapter Six: To Travel Lustfully…

They met in a compartment near the end of the train. The carriage itself was more or less empty; just an elderly couple sleepily ensconced at one end, undisturbed by the rattling of the train across the tracks. The thin figure of Severus Snape slipped through the door at the end of the carriage. He paused in the dimmest spot, face indistinct in the inadequate lighting. When nothing untoward happened he moved down the corridor checking each compartment. Only two were occupied; one by the aforementioned elderly couple and the other by Remus Lupin.

Lupin stood by the window, smoking. He watched as Snape entered.

'Close the blinds,' he said.

Snape did so, easing them down with only a quiet rattle. He slid across the bolt on the door too. It would never hold against a determined intruder but would stop anyone who was merely curious. Their compartment had privacy, at least. Lupin stubbed out his cigarette and sat down.

'Enjoying the journey?' he asked.

'Oh, absolutely,' drawled Snape, sitting next to him. 'There is nothing I enjoy more than the company of my ifriends/i for hours straight with no escape.'

'How did you manage to excuse yourself?'

'I picked a fight with Macnair,' explained Snape, 'and took myself off in a huff insisting that I have quiet to read my book.' He held it up with a faint sneer before laying it carefully on the seat. 'Now, what was so important that we risk this meeting?'

'I want something.'

Snape arched an eyebrow. 'And what,' he inquired a little archly, 'would that be?'

Lupin said nothing and grabbed Snape's head between his hands. He nearly slammed their heads together lunging for a kiss, ending up with Snape's nose knocking into his cheek. He pushed him backwards until they half lay along the musty seat. Teeth clashed with a furious rattle and scrape.

Snape shoved Lupin away viciously, anger ugly on his features.

'You'd jeopardise our position here for that?' he hissed. 'You fool!'

Lupin pressed him down again. 'You started this,' he warned. 'You don't get to complain about it now.'

'I can complain about the circumstances!' Snape protested, pushing back. 'Has it not occurred to you that there are rather a lot of people on this train who must not see us together?'

'You were the one who told me that your friends would not be surprised to find you with a strange man.'

'It's still too risky!' Snape twisted under Lupin but to no effect. He slumped a little, still holding Lupin away. 'Why now, of all times?'

'Because I can't stop thinking about you,' Lupin confessed.

Snape's face went immediately blank. 'Is that so,' he said neutrally.

'Yes!' Lupin rubbed his thumbs along Snape's collarbones, fighting against his thoughts. 'I don't know what you've done to me. I can't stop thinking about you, wanting you. I can't even watch you walk past without wanting to slam you into the nearest wall and make you scream! What the hell have you done to me?'

'You can stop thinking like that straight away,' Snape snapped, catching Lupin's hands with his own. 'I have done nothing to you.'

'Oh no?'

'Pah! Maybe I seduced you but you were hardly unwilling. And you haven't stopped it since, have you?' Snape made a noise of disdain. 'Unless, of course, you're only doing it to keep me happy in which case you're a much better or much worse man than your country will ever give you credit for.'

Lupin's insides turned cold like he had just swallowed ice.

'Oh yes, that's me,' he muttered, 'pimping for England.'

He shifted atop Snape, remembering what had started this argument in the first place. His arousal, which had started even before the dark figure had stepped through the door, had not abated in the slightest. By contrast, it had grown with the heat and proximity. He ground his hips across Snape's and bent back down.

'Does it really matter?' he asked, neither expecting nor allowing an answer.

He crushed his lips to Snape's, pressing until he felt him finally surrender. The kiss changed to softness and warmth and Lupin's hands were released to go where they wanted to. He unfastened Snape's jacket and the shirt too. The skin underneath was not as smooth as Lupin was used to, not belonging to a primped and preening woman, but twitched satisfactorily when Lupin teased fingers across it. He drew back to look at Snape but the man avoided his gaze, tipping his head back with a sigh. Lupin felt a flash of anger and frustration, wanting Snape to react to what he was doing. He pressed down again, sliding a hand to Snape's trousers.

Lupin had, despite the past day or so, little experience of touching another male body. Women he knew. He could tease and pinch and stroke all the right places to elicit the desired response. But with a man it was somehow more personal. The only guide Lupin had to the male body was his own. Using the techniques and touches on Snape that he knew he liked on himself was weirdly intimate and exposing in a way that Lupin didn't usually feel during intercourse.

Snape sighed quietly and began to reciprocate, one hand pulling at Lupin's tie and the other snaking round the back of Lupin's head to draw him closer. His mouth opened slick under Lupin's and his back arched to bring their bodies into full contact. He writhed, pulling Lupin into a winding embrace.

'Remus,' he whispered against a flushed cheek, '...'

Lupin groaned, grabbing Snape closer and rocking against him.

'You know anyone could come through that door, don't you?' Snape continued, voice low and husky enough to be almost inaudible. 'If they wanted to, they could shove that door down and see us here together. And what would they think then, hmm? Would they be disgusted? Horrified? Turned on?' He seized Lupin's mouth in an increasingly desperate kiss. 'Maybe,' he went on breathlessly, 'they'd stand there and watch. Would you like that? Someone standing there, eyes never leaving us, watching us fuck on this seat...'

Lupin's movements became uncontrolled, hips bucking and arms clutching. His elbow struck the seat back and suddenly they were falling to the floor still wrapped in each other. Snape landed on top, all sharp edges and bones, but Lupin rolled him quickly underneath. They struggled together, grinding and rocking with the chaka-chaka-chaka of the train.

'Stop it,' said Snape. He shoved at Lupin when that failed to elicit a response. 'Stop it!'

'What's the problem now?' growled Lupin impatiently.

'This floor is filthy. I refuse to roll around on it.'

'You'd rather we fall off the seat again?'

'Tchah!' Snape made an irritated noise, sliding out from underneath Lupin. 'There is more than one way to skin a cat, you know.'

He pulled Lupin up to sit on the seat then knelt in front of him, pulling Lupin's trousers open. Lupin groaned as Snape, hands resting on the Englishman's thighs, went straight to the root of Lupin's desire with his mouth. This Lupin was more familiar with. Even the long hair he wrapped around his fingers could have been that of any of his former, female lovers (if they had neglected washing it for a few days, anyway). But somehow Lupin couldn't, and didn't want to forget that it was Snape kneeling before him and Snape's mouth sucking and licking with gay abandon. The train thundered on through the night, a one-eyed beast roaring in the darkness, but the most important sound to Lupin was the wet sound of Snape's mouth on him and his own gasps. In what seemed an embarrassingly short time Lupin was coming in a rush, hips bucking upwards under Snape's hands as euphoria pulled him under.

Boneless and feeling like his very life had been sucked out, Lupin slumped. His hands fell back to the worn, bristly seat cover and his head flopped back. Snape's smile, when he rose to sit back on the seat, was as smug as Lupin had ever seen it.

Lupin saw very little of Leningrad when they got there. The night was dark and he concerned himself rather with following Riddle and his Death Eaters from the train. Their boat waited in the harbour, unremarkable and certainly unremarked upon. The Soviet police knew when it was best to look the other way, it seemed. Lupin slipped aboard fairly easily and made his way, as Snape had told him to, down to the lower level of the boat away from where everyone else would be. Shortly after, the boat's engines eased into life and Lupin felt the surge as she started forward. It was not long before they were out into the ocean. Lupin settled in to wait out the journey. It was to be no pleasure cruise, he was sure.

The hold of the boat was dark, dank and distinctly rank in smell. Lupin curled into his corner behind two crates and tried to get comfortable. It certainly wasn't easy. There were no soft surfaces here and two blankets were no replacement for a good armchair or, heaven forbid, a soft bed. The hold was clammy with the chill that comes from being underwater. On the other side of the metal hull dark water held silver pale fish, sleek dark predators and slimily clinging weeds. Waves swelled and rolled, raising and dropping the boat with little care.

Lupin wondered how much of a chance he would have out there if discovered and heaved overboard. Maybe a numb, sinking death would be preferable to whatever Riddle could do - if the state of Black's remains was anything to go by. The movement of the boat was quite calming, though, and Lupin found himself considering the facts of Black's death with a little more detachment than before. It was a fact that Black had been murdered, horribly, by Riddle or, at least, on Riddle's orders. Bellatrix Lestrange, on the evidence of Snape, seemed the likely culprit. An unnatural woman, Lupin decided. Her traits would have been abhorrent enough in a man but in a woman it was against nature. That Black had suffered his last hours under her care was a sickening thought. Lupin forcibly turned his mind from the idea and focused instead on the problem of Snape.

The man was surrounded by a mess of contradictions in Lupin's mind. While part of him wanted to trust the sour Russian - and a rather vocal part of his libido was most enthusiastic - another part counselled caution. That Snape had something to do with Black's death, either by action or inaction, seemed almost certain. At the same time, though, Lupin could find credence in Snape's sneering derision of Black's sense. Sirius had been a good friend but he could be headstrong. If he didn't like someone he made damned sure they knew it. He would never have got along with a person like Snape, especially after that whole mess with Black's younger brother running off to join the British Communists and ending up dead for his pains. Black's death was most likely the fault of both men and their failure to reach an understanding.

But still, that conclusion was only 'most likely.' It was not a certainty. Lupin could not allow himself to fully trust Snape, no matter what his libido said. He let out a huff of exasperated air. It was meant to be women who fogged things up with sex! Now, though, Lupin was being distracted by moments of intimacy: him and Snape against the hard bathroom tile; spooned among cheap sheets; and urgently hushed in the semi-publicity of the railway carriage. A stirring in his groin made him chastise himself thoroughly. Now was not the time!

Pulling his knees up a little more he tried to sleep. It was not easy; his mind kept running through thoughts of potential dangers and problems, of trust and betrayal, and inevitably, of sex. Eventually he dropped into a light doze in which he tossed and turned quite uneasily.

He jerked awake to find a sickly-smelling cloth being pressed over his nose and mouth, sending him properly to sleep almost before he woke up. Dark shapes swam before his eyes and for a confused moment he thought he was already outside and sinking among the uncaring fish. Words floated around him through the roar of water in his ears.

'... to get him up to ...'

'...ing heavy, Fen...'

'... right where he said he would be ...'

The waters of sleep closed over his head and the currents pulled him deep. The silver-bright thoughts darted away like a shoal of fish as he reached for them and finally there was only the black of the ocean bottom.

When he woke again it was to the absence of movement. A decided lack of it, in fact, due to what felt like chains binding him to the chair he was apparently now sitting on. He raised his head - which caused movement, all right, as the room began to go round like a merry-go-round - and saw that he was in some sort of dungeon cell. The walls looked old and Lupin supposed this must be Hogwarts castle, Riddle's confident purchase in the north.

Riddle himself, Lupin suddenly realised, was standing opposite.

'I trust you slept well,' Riddle said with all the calm of the most genial of hosts. 'Perhaps I should apologise for the condition of your room here. I'm afraid I have not quite had the time to settle in yet.' A smile crept across his lips. 'I know Severus has been most _accommodating_ so far.'

Something in Lupin's brain stuttered to a stop.

'Did you enjoy him in bed, Mr. Lupin?' Riddle asked suddenly. 'I would hate for you to have been disappointed. After all, he did it on my orders.'


	7. Arrival At The Truth

**Title:** Red Serpent (7/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2947 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

:::

Chapter Seven: Arriving At The Truth

The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle had not been designed with illumination in mind. Brackets for torches, long disused, stuck out from the walls as nothing more than grim decoration. Fluorescent strip lights had been affixed to the ceiling, their wires haphazardly tacked across dark stone to gather into a bundle that ran out of the door. The bleak artificial lighting touched everything with bleaching whiteness but showed the photographs in Riddle's hand with horrible, stark clarity.

They were black and white and decidedly grainy but to Lupin it was all too clear what they showed. They were of his hotel room and were taken, judging by the angle, from the bedside lamp. Lupin cursed himself for not checking more carefully for hidden cameras. He hadn't thought he would be up to anything suspicious in there, let alone anything as monumentally stupid as screwing another man.

It was this act, or rather acts that were being shown to Lupin now in grainy photo print. Naked bodies entwined in creased sheets; artless in shape, awkward in posture and tawdry by their very nature. Even given the relatively poor quality of the photographs Lupin could see Snape's skinny limbs and the scars on his own body. Some of the images were too dark to be of any obvious use but Lupin recognised their content anyway. Two black figures against only slightly paler bedclothes; the one splayed on top with back bowed was Snape, riding Lupin in the darkness. Even chained in the cold dungeon as he now was, Lupin still felt an unaccountable warmth at the memory.

'Of course, this is my favourite,' Riddle sneered, picking one out and holding it directly before Lupin's gaze. 'Just look at his face. Anyone would think he wasn't used to having a cock up his backside and we all know that isn't true, don't we?'

Lupin's face heated. The photograph was from the first morning they had been together; in it Snape had just been wakened by Lupin rather forcefully giving into his inconvenient masculine urges. Lupin squashed down the pity Snape's expression evoked in him. The man was a good actor; that was rapidly becoming apparent. If Riddle was to be believed (Lupin was prepared to believe he was lying, he supposed, but the Russian was damned convincing and Lupin could never allow himself to fully trust a deviant like Snape) the whole thing had been a complete set-up from the start. The apparent defection of one of Riddle's men was bait to lure an English agent over to Russia where he could be picked off at ease, Lupin presumed. But the seduction? A clawing feeling set to work on Lupin's stomach as horrid ideas began to occur to him.

'So you've got me,' he addressed Riddle, affecting an air of calm that he definitely did not feel inside. 'What's your plan from here? Keeping those photographs for your own little private collection, are you?'

Riddle laughed humourlessly. 'In a manner of speaking I suppose I am, though not in the filthy way you are attempting to imply.'

He walked away from Lupin, smart shoes tapping on ancient stone. He had dropped some of the photographs onto the floor where they lay in a paper mess of faces and limbs and sheets. Lupin refused to look down at them, instead watching Riddle's progress across the cell. The smooth head gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

'Yours is a proud country,' said Riddle eventually. 'Your secret service is one of the best in the world.' He turned to fix Lupin with his compelling eyes. 'And your reputation for stuffiness and prudishness unparalleled.'

Lupin said nothing. Riddle's gaze really was transfixing, hypnotic even.

'Imagine the fuss that would ensue should some awful scandal within your oh-so-efficient, above-all-questions secret service be spread across all your newspapers. Think of the consternation at the revelation that you secret agents are a group of deviant fools too busy fucking around with the enemy to remember their duty.'

The claws in Lupin's stomach ripped and tore with abandon. His ears rang and his face felt bizarrely, awfully hot. The fears that had half-formed in his mind had just been candidly realised. His body would be discovered - somewhere squalid, no doubt - and the photographs too. The international papers would have a field day. He had faced death a hundred times but this was somehow worse. This was death with ignominy.

'It may not end up public, of course,' continued Riddle, a small smirk touching the thin-lipped mouth with reptilian coldness. 'That rather depends on what your government is prepared to offer me. A passport, perhaps, and the freedom of your beautiful country? It's something for you to think on, anyway. Enjoy your accommodations.' He exited the cell with the flair of a man who had got what he wanted.

Lupin, left alone, seethed. So that was how the cunning snake was planning to worm his way into the British bosom. Blackmail! A wretched and cowardly practice that no decent person would ever involve themselves in. Fury raged through Lupin. He cursed Riddle for his neat, twisted scheme and himself for being so easily duped. The lure had not even been an attractive one; it would probably be difficult to find a man as obviously ugly as Snape without resorting to a circus freakshow. Lupin's rage burned hotter at the thought of Snape. He had thought that ... well, damn it, he had trusted the man! He had even - curse the thought - started to like him, for all his sharp edges and difficult traits. And the whole time Snape had been obeying Riddle's disgusting orders. Lupin had met clever bitches in his time, those who had used their bodies to bend men to their evil purpose, but Snape had trumped them all.

The anger fuelled Lupin, though it took him a few minutes to clear his head enough to concentrate on getting free. Whenever the greasy countenance of Snape nudged itself into his mind a red mist came down and the wolf growled in his chest. He pushed it away, saving its jaws for a later confrontation. His watch had been left around his wrist, apparently thought harmless. More fool them, he thought, turning the knob the wrong way until it dropped into his hand. Q - old Flitwick - was an absolute genius at these charming little devices and with his assistant Minnie McGonagall - who could turn anything into anything - provided an assortment of gadgets for every agent. Lupin wasted no time in picking the locks on his chains.

Freed from them, but still holding onto the cold links, he looked around the cell carefully. There were no obvious security cameras and no apparent places where they could be concealed. Bare stone walls hide few secrets, after all. Satisfied that he was unobserved, Lupin stood and placed the chains quietly on the chair. He picked up the awful photographs from the floor, intending to destroy them properly later. Riddle undoubtedly had the negatives somewhere safe but the less incriminating evidence left around the better. The door, he discovered, was unlocked. Riddle had great faith in his chains, apparently, unless he had some strange hidden agenda that Lupin had not yet fathomed. He hurried down the empty corridor.

As fate would have it, the first person he came across was Snape. The man was seated in the last cell on that corridor, hands folded on his lap and eyes darting nervously. He leapt to his feet in a startled motion as Lupin burst through the door but a punch to the jaw immediately sent him to the floor in a flailing mess. He attempted to push himself up but Lupin kicked him down again, repeating the action a few times for good measure. Fury was gripping Lupin in tight, vengeful fingers.

'S-s-stop!' Snape managed to gasp, curling around himself.

Lupin hooked his foot into Snape's middle, flipping him onto his back and sending him sprawling. He knelt across the man, smacking him across the face before leaning his left forearm across the skinny throat.

'You bastard,' he hissed. 'You traitorous, twisted bastard!'

Snape, breathing in awkward pants that made his throat move oddly against Lupin's arm, blinked in apparent confusion. Blood had started to run from his nose, streaking down his cheeks as his head was pushed back. He opened his mouth to talk but Lupin leaned down harder on his neck. They remained like that for some minutes, Snape gasping for breath and Lupin too furious to form words. Finally, once Lupin's pulse had stopped pounding in his ears like a tribal drumbeat, he eased back a little. Snape drew in great whoops of breath, though Lupin still did not release him fully.

'What do you think you are doing?' Snape demanded. His face was angry and red. 'Get off –'

'You're working for Riddle,' Lupin ground out, not bothering with any niceties.

Snape blinked at him. 'I was,' he said, 'but you knew that. I don't want to anymore, which is why I've been -'

'Leading me along like a dog on a string straight into the mad bastard's clutches,' Lupin interrupted. Fury boiled up inside him again. 'And didn't I just follow on like a blind fool!'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Snape. He tried to push Lupin's arm away but the other man pushed down harder again, barely controlling himself from strangling the man outright.

'You've been following Riddle's orders to the damn letter!' Lupin spat. 'Lured me over here, dragged me on a wild goose chase around Moscow and even seduced me into your own little brand of perversion.'

'You were willing enough,' Snape managed to hiss out, 'and you can't deny that you enjoyed fucking me.'

'Takes away the savour when I know you were only prostituting yourself for Riddle.'

Snape went still below Lupin, his only movement the rapid and shallow heaving of his chest.

'Is that what you think I was doing?' he said finally, voice low and quiet. 'Do you think I am that cheap? That I only slept with you because _he_ told me to?'

'Can you prove it to me otherwise?' Lupin asked.

Snape regarded him for a minute, his gaze finally settling on the furious pale eyes. Lupin saw the black eyes flicker before something went out of them.

'Probably not,' Snape whispered, 'since you seem to have decided what you think of me already.'

Lupin suddenly did not want to be touching Snape anymore. He stood abruptly, shoving Snape's head to the stone floor before striding across the cell. He stared at the wall, rage rising again as he heard Snape slowly getting up behind him. The man's act of hurt innocence was too much to be believed. He whirled around. Snape was on his knees, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. He looked up at Lupin as the other man walked back towards him. Lupin threw the photographs at Snape's face, watching them flutter to the floor. Snape bent to pick one up, almost dropping it as he saw the image properly.

'What're these?' he asked hoarsely.

'What do you think?' snapped Lupin. 'Your boss ... your _master_ intends to blackmail the British government into letting him stay. But you know that, I'm sure.'

Snape grabbed at the other photos, staring at them in disbelief. 'No,' he protested, 'I don't. And I had no idea about these. Do you think I would risk my own exposure in this way?' He started to get to his feet. 'What the hell do you think I am?'

Lupin grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees again. 'I thought I made myself clear on what I think you are,' he growled. Snape went quiet. 'It's fairly obvious that you've been in on this from the start, you lying little deviant. Every step of the way was planned, wasn't it? Each sick little detail meticulously plotted.'

'No,' said Snape quietly, 'none of it, not on my part anyway. I've only told you the truth. The only lying here is what _he_ has told you. Do you really expect him to tell you the truth? I had more respect for you than that, Remus.'

Lupin looked down at him. Snape seemed to be genuine, but trapped in this nest of vipers Lupin was not prepared to trust anyone outright. It was possible that Snape really did not know about the photographs at least, or perhaps he was an innocent dupe in the whole affair. But it was equally possible that he was knowingly and willingly part of the whole plot and it would serve Lupin best to leave him behind. He wanted to, wanted to punch Snape to the floor and make good his escape, but some absurd impulse made him want him to take Snape with him. He scowled fiercely, squashing that particular notion as hard as he could.

'Of course, there is another piece of lying going on here,' Snape continued, holding Lupin's gaze firmly. 'The little matter of you lying to yourself.'

'What?'

Snape smirked. 'I think you're rather intent on blaming me because you don't wish to admit to yourself how much you enjoyed our time together. Heaven forbid a nice, respectable middle-class Englishman enjoy a homosexual dalliance with a depraved Russian! It simply must be some diabolical plot!' He stood up, never breaking stare with Lupin even as his eyes grew cold. 'Having numerous affairs with women - oh, that's fine. Just part of the job, naturally. But fuck another man and it must be that other man's fault. For sleeping with just you and your apparently fragile heterosexuality I am the one who is labelled a prostitute.' He jabbed at Lupin with his forefinger, not stopping his diatribe even as Lupin grabbed his hand to stop him. 'You should take a look at yourself before accusing me of this sort of thing!' He glared fiercely at Lupin, breathing heavily.

There was a slow handclap from the doorway. Both men turned.

'Bravo, Severus,' said Riddle. 'Quite the impassioned speech. But then you always have had a flair for the dramatic. I can't help but think that the stage would have suited you well; spending your nights convincing your audience that everything you say is true. Don't you agree, Mr Lupin?'

Lupin said nothing. Riddle stepped into the room, followed by several of his Death Eaters. There were too many of them for Lupin to even think of attempting escape. He and Snape were quickly seized hold of, arms twisted in black-clad hands.

'Of course, Severus is right,' Riddle continued, nodding at the man, 'if you and he had not had your little thing then perhaps you would have been less hasty to distrust him. You were wonderfully gullible there, Mr Lupin. It made for entertaining viewing. You do go impressively off at the deep end when roused. I expect Severus would have the bruises for a week, if I were to let him live that long.'

Lupin's stomach twisted. Riddle had been the one lying, not Snape. Lupin had believed him and it had all been for some sort of sick enjoyment on Riddle's part. Snape had been telling the truth; maybe even his diatribe on Lupin's hypocrisy had truth in it, Lupin admitted to himself. He clenched his jaw in fury.

'That was really just a little entertainment for myself, you understand,' Riddle went on, 'a little fun before we kill you. I was thinking we should use the lake for that, by the way. A lover's suicide pact; it has such a lovely ring to it.'

'You'll never get away with it!' spat Lupin.

'Ah, I was waiting for you to say something like that.' Riddle's mouth curved into a tight little smile. 'I have every faith in getting away with it, actually. Never let it be said that your great British press lets the facts get in the way of a good story.'

A female Death Eater, her hair wild and eyes dark with mental instability, tugged at Riddle's sleeve. He looked down at her as one would at a pet.

'You promised us,' she rasped in Russian, 'before you have them killed ... we get him.'

'Of course, Bella,' Riddle assured her, patting her shoulder.

Lupin blinked. So that was the woman who had been responsible for Black's death. Her eyes were mad, that was certain. Lupin had met psychotics in his time and he knew the look. He still saw it glowing from wolfish eyes in his nightmares some nights, accompanied by howls and remembered pain.

Riddle had moved to stand before Snape, cupping the man's chin in one hand.

'It seems a shame, Severus, but I did promise her.' He turned his head to look at Lupin. 'Severus's colleagues were most aggrieved by his betrayal. I promised them they could have a chance to demonstrate that to him.'

Lupin glanced across at Snape. The man was pale - true, he had strangely sallow skin anyway - and looked a little ill. He was glaring at Bellatrix, however, and she was glaring straight back. A gleeful little grin was stretching across her wide mouth.

'We're going to have such fun,' she burbled with a little cackle.

'Demented harpy,' Snape spat back as he was pulled out of the door.

'He was such a promising young man,' said Riddle. 'Return Mr. Lupin to his cell and I think we'll lock the door this time.' He nodded to Lupin. 'Until we meet again - which won't be too long.'

To be continued…


	8. You Damn Traitor'

**Title:** Red Serpent (8/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2338 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

:::

Chapter Eight: 'You Damn Traitor!'

The cell was as bleak as before and this time the door was locked. Lupin checked for ways to escape almost mechanically. Medieval builders knew their job well. The walls were thick and in a disappointingly good state. The door was no better; a great wooden affair with stronger hinges than any so-called craftsman would bother with today. Ventilation shafts large enough to fit a man - such as had served Lupin beautifully before - were unsurprisingly lacking. And the little lock pick in his watch could do nothing against the bolts on the other side of the door. All in all, the cell was something its builders could be proud of; still inescapable long after its makers had crumbled to dust.

Lupin paced, sat down, and then paced some more. He cursed Riddle, Snape (though this made him feel faintly guilty so he cursed Riddle again), medieval workmen, M for sending him on this godforsaken mission in the first place, Riddle for a third time and finally himself for being such a damn fool. Riddle had left him the photos again, spread out in lewd display. Lupin gathered them into a neat pile and left them face-down on the floor. He had looked through them as he did and was a little perturbed by the arousal he felt. He eventually stopped examining them as he piled them up, not wanting to be in that state at such an inopportune time.

The chair he had been chained to earlier was still there. Lupin sat on it, elbows on knees and head on hands, eyes staring blankly at the white backs of the photographs and mind racing. How had Riddle known to find him? If Snape hadn't informed on him - and Lupin was prepared to believe that now - then who had? Riddle's plan, twisted as it was, had required preparation. He couldn't just have hoped a British agent would fall into his hands. Lupin had been led, blindly, by the nose through all of this and, apparently, so had Snape. Riddle knew he was coming, Lupin was sure. But how?

Muffled noises began to seep through from outside the cell, disrupting his contemplation. They were too quiet to distinguish at first, playing on the edge of hearing. Lupin's head rose in curiosity. It was something else to concentrate on other than endless questions, at least.

A few minutes later he wished he hadn't been listening quite so intently. A choked scream stuttered through the wall, followed by a howl of laughter that chilled Lupin even more. It was Snape, it had to be. Somewhere nearby they were torturing Snape and Lupin couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. It wasn't even torture for a reason; they weren't trying to pry information from the man. It was torture for the cruel joy of it. Lupin felt sick to his stomach. He dropped his head to his hands once more and tried not to listen.

He had been in the cell for about an hour before Crabbe and Goyle – who he recognised from Snape's descriptions; there probably weren't too many Death Eaters who looked like they'd been "kicked out of the giant clans for being too stupid" - came to fetch him. He went with them quietly biding his time. A too-early attempt fight, even supposing it had gone well, would probably only have left him injured and lost in the dungeons of the huge castle. As it was he walked docilely beside the two thugs, restrained only by their hands on his shoulders. The steps up from the dungeons were rough-cut stone blocks, uneven and worn, and more than easy enough to stumble on.

He fell into Goyle. The man did not even stagger, apparently being as solidly built as the stones around them. He smelt, though, of sweat and meat. Lupin was grateful when he was pulled upright again. He was more grateful, however, for the little pick-pocketing he had managed in the fall and the useful item he had stolen. A Swiss army knife, blade retracted, was in Lupin's possession and that was a good deal better than nothing.

Crabbe and Goyle kept a tighter grip on him from that point, pulling him through high-arched hallways without a sideways glance. Hogwarts Castle was old, Lupin realised, glancing around as he was led along. The cells had seemed old, of course, but a dungeon in one place could be remarkably similar to a dungeon in another. Here in the castle proper Lupin had the bizarre impression that he had been transported back several centuries. There were tapestries on the walls; not in the best condition but there nonetheless. Threadbare eyes watched the three pass and were joined in their surveillance by gazes of dimmed and cracking paint. Portraits stared down from all sides: a knight, a centaur, and a lady of operatic proportions. As Lupin watched the fat lady tried to pull her hand free from the damaged section of paint, stamping her foot in frustration when she couldn't. This was a magical place then, he realised, or had been some time ago. It had clearly fallen into disrepair but the magic was still there, hanging in the air. This could be a place of power, which explained why Riddle wanted it.

A long corridor led to the largest set of doors Lupin had seen yet, beside a grumbling generator. Dark, heavy oak was held with ornate iron hinges that swung easily at Crabbe's push. Beyond them lay a great hall; long and wide with a high arched ceiling almost too high to see. Tall diamond-paned windows shone with moonlight, illuminating areas the electric light setup did not reach. It was like being in a church, not that Lupin felt in the least bit reverential. The priest of this pale stone was not a godly man; for all that his dark robes gave that impression. Lupin spotted the shadowy figure among the fluorescent lighting and moonlight easily. Riddle waited a little way down but he was not alone.

Lupin recognised the slightly hunched figure in front of Riddle instantly, and reacted with fury.

'Pettigrew!' he spat, lunging for the man.

Crabbe and Goyle's hands pulled him up short but he continued to glare at him. Pettigrew was secretary to James Potter, M's chief-of-staff and one of Lupin's dearest friends. What Pettigrew was doing here, apparently in obeisance to Riddle, was slowly dawning on Lupin with sudden clarity. Riddle had known he was coming and Pettigrew had to have been how he knew. The sneaky little rat must have been passing information directly from within the secret service!

'You traitor, Pettigrew,' he growled, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fingers around that pudgy throat and squeeze the breath out of the loathsome creature. 'You damned traitor!'

Riddle, watching with clear amusement, chuckled. He ran a long finger along the side of the large python incongruously wrapped around his neck, keeping his eyes on Lupin the whole time.

'You don't seem to mind traitors when they're in your bed,' he commented slyly.

The snigger from Pettigrew was enough to set Lupin fighting against the two thugs guarding him again, though still with little success. The fact that Pettigrew knew was the worst. It was one thing these Russians knowing but Pettigrew, someone who knew him from home and normality, having that information made him feel sick.

'I always knew there was something ... unnatural about him,' Pettigrew was simpering, 'something perverted.'

'Not as perverted as you selling out your country for your thirty pieces of silver!' Lupin shouted, struggling against Crabbe and Goyle. 'What do you think you're getting, Pettigrew, a chance to rise above your own pathetic mediocrity?'

'A chance to save my country from the bloated plutocrats!' declared Pettigrew. 'Communism will overcome, Lupin, and when it does the rich and the wealthy and those like you who prop up the outmoded, so-called democracy will pay for their crimes. Ordinary people will have the right to run their own lives!'

'You fool,' said Lupin, 'you stupid fool. It'll never work, especially not with power-hungry idiots like him in charge! You can't listen to his lies!'

'Shut up! You just don't want true democracy!'

'Now, boys,' Riddle's voice cut across like a knife through silk, shredding their argument with charismatic authority. 'Let's not bore ourselves with politics. You won't sway dear Peter with your silly arguments, Mr. Lupin, he knows what's right. He's been persuaded of that for quite some time, in fact. Thanks to Peter we knew your friend Black was heading for Russia almost before he did. And that provided us with the admirable opportunity to flush out our own little traitor.' He sighed a little theatrically. 'And to think it was Severus. I always thought he was so intelligent.'

'He's more intelligent than the rest of your little friends,' Lupin shot back. 'He, at least, has worked out that while the theory is sound the practice most certainly isn't. You might come out of this just fine but no one else will. All men are equal except those who are more equal: namely you, am I right?'

'How witty you are, Mr. Lupin,' Riddle drawled. 'You've read your Orwell, at least. As to Severus; if he were clever enough he'd never have put any trust in that fool Black.'

'Sirius wasn't a fool!'

Riddle laughed. 'He wasn't the man you like to think he was. Bella had barely had him for half a day before he gave us Severus's name. After that, of course, it was … curtains for him.' Riddle's laugh gained something of a maniacal edge.

Lupin's blood roared in his ears. Heat spread across his face. Black had betrayed Snape under torture; under the same torturess that had Snape in her clutches even now. Lupin's fists clenched. The Black he knew would never have given away his friends even under the worst of circumstances. Either the torture was that bad or Black had given away Snape easily. Neither was a welcome thought.

'I don't believe the two of them got along very well,' Riddle continued. 'Some of the names your friend Black came out with ... well, I dare say he would not have approved of your _relations_ with Severus. We let him believe that Severus had betrayed him, of course. He believed that until the end. We let Severus think that Black had kept his silence and that way he led you straight to us. Clever, is it not?' He smiled. 'I am rid of my traitor and gain a way into Britain in one fell swoop.'

Pettigrew sniggered, rubbing his hands. His weak, twitchy eyes squinted at Lupin.

'We didn't expect you to end up in bed together though,' said Riddle. 'That was most obliging of you. You saved us a great deal of trouble.'

Not for the first time Lupin cursed his own libido. It had got him in a real mess of a situation all right and it was his own fault. He couldn't blame Snape. The man had proved to be trustworthy, at least as far as Lupin was concerned, and he couldn't help what he was. Besides, from the sounds of it Riddle had had his own plans along similar lines. Lupin's own actions hadn't helped but the outcome would probably have been the same. He could imagine the look on M's face already.

'Of course,' Riddle continued, 'we still have some work to do. Namely, your deaths.' He turned his head, the snake mimicking his move, as the doors opened again. 'Ah, Severus. I do trust Bellatrix has been expressing herself adequately.'

Lupin winced as he saw Snape being dragged in. By the looks of things the man couldn't stay on his own feet and was instead being hauled along by two Death Eaters. His skin was horribly pale and covered in a cold sweat, not to mention several bruises. Blood had dried around his nose and mouth and when he opened his mouth to spit curses at Riddle Lupin could see that some of those crooked teeth were missing. One of Snape's wrists flopped at an angle that Lupin's experience told him meant it was broken. Lupin's eyes met Snape's briefly but the eye contact was abruptly broken by Snape looking pointedly away.

'Not quite the passionate reunion you were hoping for, Mr. Lupin?' Riddle asked. 'Severus is very good at holding grudges, I'm afraid. You seem to have rather upset him by thinking he had betrayed you. Never mind, you won't be getting the cold shoulder for very long.'

His snake uncoiled from his neck, her head rising. She flicked her tongue at Snape, tasting the air he breathed out with lascivious hunger. Snape glared at her, though there was a visible jerk backwards from him as her head darted forwards a few inches. Riddle chuckled and ran a finger across her scales.

'No need for that, Nagini, my love,' he said softly, 'we have a far more ... romantic fate in store for our two lovers. A tragedy worthy of Shakespeare.' He continued talking to the snake, though his occasional sly glances at Lupin and Snape revealed his true audience. 'Two men from different sides; doomed never to be together in life but forever entwined in death.' Nagini hissed appreciatively, the tip of her tongue just brushing Riddle's nose in a grotesque parody of affection. 'I doubt the great British press will take such a sentimental view of the story though. The more lurid aspects of a top British spy being hauled from a lake wrapped around his homosexual Russian lover will keep them busy enough.'

Lupin saw Snape flinch and felt a momentary pang of pity for the man. International espionage was a nasty business and he wondered if Snape had fully considered the consequences of turning on his own side. Spies had no rights and defectors even fewer.

'It's time for a short swim, Mr. Lupin,' Riddle said, 'downwards.'


	9. A Cold Final Kiss

**Title:** Red Serpent (9/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2365 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

:::

Chapter Nine: A Cold Final Kiss

Two of the Death Eaters bound them together under Riddle's precise orders. It was a parody of an embrace: one of Lupin's arms was looped over Snape's shoulder while the other passed under Snape's armpit on the other side and Lupin's wrists were bound to hold them in place. The same pose was mimicked on Snape until they were well and truly locked together. Lupin could feel each exhausted tremble that ran through the other man and felt rather than heard the pained groans against the side of his neck as Snape's broken wrist was yanked roughly into place. Their feet were bound together too, suddenly making balance awkward, and attached to the ball and chain Riddle had had brought up from the dungeons.

Snape was swaying a little now, relying on Lupin's hold to stay upright. Lupin grimaced. He needed Snape to stay awake for this.

'It'll be all right,' he whispered directly into Snape's ear.

Snape looked up, catching Lupin's gaze with a quizzical eyebrow. Lupin kissed him, opening his mouth and guiding Snape's tongue to feel the Stanley knife concealed in the side of his cheek. Hope flickered in Snape's eyes as they pulled apart.

'Make sure you take a deep breath,' Lupin whispered, 'but I think we can make it.'

Riddle walked across the deck towards them. 'Isn't that romantic?' he said snidely. 'One last kiss before the cold embrace of death claims you both. At least I'm allowing you eternal rest in each other's arms.'

There was a dull thump as the rope was cast off and a roar as the engine was pushed into life. Lupin couldn't help but think that the boat was rather too flashy and large for its peaceful surroundings. It was like buying a panther to catch a few mice. His train of thought was knocked off course as the boat began to move, its surge forward throwing him and Snape to the deck. Lupin rolled them to lie on their sides, face-to-face and uncomfortably close. Snape was breathing awkwardly, jerky exhalations washing over Lupin's cheek.

'That crazy bitch,' Lupin muttered, pressing a hand against Snape's back in lieu of being able to help.

'Told you she was,' said Snape. His tone was still cold.

The boat roared on, heading for the centre of the lake and leaving a straight white line of foam behind it. Ducks splashed up in alarm when it did not deviate its course to suit their floating whims. The night was already fully spread across the surroundings, the moon clear and bright above. Lupin huffed out a breath. He couldn't leave things this constrained.

'Listen, Snape, I'm sorry about believing Riddle earlier and not you. And about everything else: calling me out on my hypocrisy. You were right.'

Snape said nothing but a slight nod of his head indicated that he had heard.

'Looks like it could be a little too late for us though,' Lupin continued.

Snape snorted. 'I wasn't expecting a relationship.'

'What?' Lupin blinked, confused, for a moment. 'Oh, I didn't mean...'

The tiniest trace of a flummoxed expression flickered in Snape's eyes. 'It was a joke.'

'Of course.'

Lupin watched Snape's gaze twist away to look anywhere but at him. Not just a joke then. Lupin wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He had attempted the relationship route with several women; none of whom had ever stayed with him longer than a year. It wasn't as if homosexual relationships were socially acceptable either.

Not that this was the time for internal debate. The boat was slowing, her engines quietening. Riddle strolled back over towards them. He smiled down at them, charisma showing even in his murderousness.

'I suppose this must be goodbye,' he said, inclining his head a little. 'A shame we have had such a short acquaintance, Mr. Lupin, though I feel I have known you longer. Dedicated research will do that, I find. Never mind, Mr. Lupin, you may eternally rest assured that you will still be helping me and my cause.' He walked around their prone forms to slide a shoe under Snape's cheek and tilt his head up. 'And as for you, Severus ...' He smiled and steel came into his eyes. 'I couldn't have caught him so easily without you, you traitorous little worm.'

He walked away, waving Crabbe and Goyle forward with a casual hand. The two thugs grabbed the chain at Lupin and Snape's feet and dragged them across the deck. The wood scraped unpleasantly; the rough edges of the planks tugging at their clothes. Seconds later they were lifted and heaved over the side of the boat.

The cold water exploded around them as they dropped straight down towards its depths. The cheers of Riddle's men disappeared and the dull rush of water surrounded them instead. Snape struggled for a moment but stopped at a squeeze from Lupin. Neither of them could afford to panic if they wanted to get out of this alive. With a reassuring smile he did not quite feel, Lupin got to work.

Pulling his arms around and half-crushing Snape against his chest he was able to get one hand to his mouth to grab the knife. With his fingers already numbing with cold it was a struggle to get the blade out - a long enough struggle to set his heart racing with a dull drumbeat in his ears - but he managed it and immediately began sawing at the ropes on his wrists. The awkward angle made it slow, too slow; the already dark water was darkening around them as they slid inexorably deeper. The ropes gave, finally, and Lupin pulled himself down Snape's body to reach their feet.

There were more ropes here, tightly wrapped, and Lupin worked as fast as he could. He was getting colder and colder, the feeling leaching out of his hands but there was no chance he would give up. It was not just himself he was trying to save; there was Snape too. And the safety of England, of course.

Lungs burning, he barely felt the ropes slide free and the heavy weight fall from their feet. As their downward momentum stopped he kicked himself upwards. Allowing Snape's still-bound arms to loop around his neck he began swimming towards the surface, pulling them both towards the waiting air. Snape, still apparently conscious, tipped his head back to look up. The moon glazed the surface in rippling green-grey save for the dark bulk of Riddle's boat. Snape tilted his head towards it and Lupin understood. Riddle was probably still looking out in case they surfaced, waiting with his wand in hand most likely. The only place to hide before the water conquered them was under the edges of the boat. Lupin silently blessed Riddle for his choice in ostentatiously large marine vessels.

They broke the surface as quietly as possible, noticing gratefully that the engines were still running with enough noise to mask their frantic gasping for breath. There was a ladder fixed to the side of the boat nearby and Lupin grabbed it, pulling himself and Snape under the side of the boat as much as possible. They waited. Lupin's arms were trying to tremble with fatigue but he gritted his teeth and forced them to stop. Not yet, he told himself, not yet. There was still far too much to do.

It was ten minutes before they heard Riddle's voice above them.

'They're dead! Let's get back to my castle. I believe a celebration is in order. These British are as good as ours.'

A cheer went up from the Death Eaters on board before the engines roared into activity. Lupin tightened his numbing grip as the boat started for the shore. Holding on got harder as the boat picked up speed and its wake sloshed up around them. Thank God it wasn't far!

It still felt too long, though, before the engines sank down to a purr and the wake settled around them. Snape saw the wooden jetty coming up on their side and muttered a warning to Lupin. They tucked themselves under the edge of the boat as best they could to avoid the slimy wooden supports. As the boat slid in alongside the jetty Lupin detached his hands awkwardly from the ladder and forced his arms to pull through the water under the wooden structure. The shore was a few feet away but it felt like miles. A coot splashed out of their way, flapping its way to hide in the reeds further round the lake edge. Clinging weeds ran insubstantial fingers along their legs and pulled at their boots.

Lupin finally hauled them from the water and onto the shore underneath the jetty, both of them shaking from exhaustion and cold. They lay together panting. Feet thundered above them, making them both start in alarm, but it was just Riddle and his Death Eaters leaving the boat. It was soon silent, though both of them knew better than to take it for granted that they were safe. Snape's head grew heavier on Lupin's shoulder and Lupin twisted to look at him. The black eyes were closed and Snape's lips were looking alarmingly blue.

'Snape!' Lupin hissed, patting the man's cheek. 'Stay awake, damn you!'

Snape moaned. 'T-t-too c-c-c-cold,' he managed.

'Damn!' Lupin cursed.

He needed to recuperate for a little while and let his body recover from the trial he had just put it through but it was too cold for them to just lie there. It was winter and they were soaking wet. If he allowed hypothermia to strike they were done for. Groaning, he struggled to sit up and slipped Snape's arms from his neck. Snape grunted and grabbed at Lupin weakly.

'I'm going to see if there are any blankets on the boat,' Lupin told him. 'Try to stay awake.'

He staggered to his feet and pushed the numb appendages into walking him to the end of the jetty. He raised his head carefully. No one seemed to be on board. Riddle had seemed certain of his victory and besides, he wouldn't be expecting anyone trespassing on his boat all the way out here in the wilds of Scotland. Confident in the darkness, Lupin crept aboard. The door down to the cabins was locked but he found a few blankets in a storage locker on deck. They were made of rough, scratchy wool but felt warm. He carried them back to where Snape was curled up and shivering.

'Snape? Snape?' He knelt by the man. 'Severus?'

That got a response. Snape blinked up at Lupin, shifting to accommodate as the other man pulled him close and wrapped the blankets around them. Lupin lay back on the sandy ground with Snape on top of him, allowing the man's cold face to rest against Lupin's neck. They lay like that for some time, Lupin gently rubbing Snape's back until the shuddering and trembling died down. Eventually the man lay still in Lupin's arms.

'This is cosy,' he said quietly, a faint chuckle vibrating against Lupin's chest.

'I can think of more comfortable places,' Lupin told him. 'Warmer ones, certainly. At least it isn't snowing.'

'I thought Britain was more famous for its rain.'

They laughed, though it wasn't really funny. It was more cold-induced, bordering on hysteria. There were worse things to do than laugh and laughing, at least, meant they were warm and alive. Snape was almost sobbing against Lupin's shoulder before he managed to calm down. They lay quietly, breathing together for a while. Eventually, Snape pushed his bound hands against Lupin's arm.

'Are you ever going to untie me?'

'Maybe.' Lupin smirked, pulling the blanket tighter around them. 'Maybe I like having you bound and at my mercy.'

Snape laughed and pecked a kiss at Lupin's chin. 'Not tonight, darling. I've got a headache.' He sighed. 'And what about Riddle? Do we not have something to do?'

Lupin grinned. 'I've got someone to do right here, haven't I?'

Snape made an exasperated noise. 'I thought you English were all stiff upper lips and seriousness. Now I find you're all stiff elsewhere and full of terrible puns.'

'Shame you never went to public school.'

Snape snorted. 'That was not exactly an option. I can tell you were a public schoolboy though. Where did you go?'

'Eton. Not for very long though. There was an ... incident.' Lupin pulled a face reminiscent of a naughty schoolboy. 'With a chambermaid.'

This set Snape laughing again. 'Started as you meant to go on, did you?' he said. 'You and your famous parade of women. I feel quite honoured.' His laughter died down and his tone became more thoughtful. 'There is this series of books I have been reading - very difficult to get hold of in Russia, for obvious reasons, but I like my books - by a man called Fleming. He writes these spy stories - quite ridiculous, of course - about an English spy. They're quite fantastic; wish-fulfilment if ever I read it. I can't help but be reminded of them by you.'

Lupin smiled. 'Well, we have met a few times. And chatted about ... things.'

'So this spy of his,' Snape questioned, amusement in the deep tone of his voice, 'is he based on you?'

'Maybe a little,' Lupin admitted, feeling a little embarrassed to say it. 'Though with a great deal more wish-fulfilment on his part.'

Snape's response was to laugh again. It didn't take long to settle down, though, and he curled up tighter against Lupin and closer into those arms.

'So,' he said eventually, breath warm across Lupin's throat, 'are you going to tell your Mr Fleming about this adventure?'

Lupin chuckled. 'Oh, yes. I expect he will quite enjoy it. I may have to fudge a few of the details, of course. I could suggest a title too: how about _The Spy Who Loved Me_?'

Snape stilled, stiffness creeping into his body. 'It's love then, is it?' he asked quietly.

Lupin stroked his back gently. 'Well, look how far you came,' he teased. 'All the way _From Russia With Love_.'


	10. Gunpowder Against Curses

**Title:** Red Serpent (10/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2133 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far. At least I've got more than one review per chapter, eh. Two more chapters left after this, and I promise they will be posted in due course.

:::

Chapter Ten: Gunpowder Against Curses

:::

Modern living – that state of being where all hours are too important to waste and day and night are merely names – requires light and light requires power. Magical power would have shone like a beacon against those dark Scottish hills and shown itself to those who knew how to look. To avoid such a mistake Riddle had invested in electric lights, incongruous against the centuries-old stone they illuminated. Guns, too, he had brought with him but left unused in a storeroom. The Death Eaters carried their wands, after all. To Lupin and Snape, however, the weapons were a godsend. Gunpowder and steel were not much against magic but at least they had the secret of their survival on their side.

Lupin finished his preparations and yanked the plug out of the generator. It continued to motor on noisily and, now, pointlessly. The parts of the castle that had been lit fell to darkness. It was true darkness; not the twilight nights of cities with their artificial light but the darkness of the primal nights without fire or stars. Moonlight shone through the high windows of the Great Hall and enchanted it with cold radiance but the corridors were filled with the kind of blackness that normally only exists behind the eyelids. Lupin, using the wall as a guide, headed back over to where Snape stood at the head of the steps to the dungeons. Behind the thick wooden doors to the Great Hall they could hear Riddle's voice giving orders.

'Wilkes, Avery, Greyback,' he was saying. 'Get out there and fix it. Now!'

The doors opened and the three Death Eaters were silhouetted against the moonlight. Lupin and Snape, not wanting to lose their night vision or to be seen, had already gone down the steps towards the dungeons but still waited, listening.

Wilkes and Avery approached the generator first, followed by the great hulking shape of Greyback. Avery flashed a torch over the metal, squinting as the glare reflected back in their faces.

'Looks like it's just been unplugged,' he said.

'Then get on and plug it back in,' Greyback growled, 'and let's get back to the food.'

'Go on then, Wilkes,' said Avery, giving him a shove. 'You heard him.'

Wilkes shoved him back, sending torchlight spinning across the stones. 'Why don't you do it?'

'Because I told you to,' Avery shot back.

'_Just do it_.'

Greyback's voice, low and gruff, had the effect of filling whatever space it was spoken into. Lupin and Snape, some way away, felt it run a chilling finger across the back of their necks. If the pitch blackness in the castle was the primal night then Greyback was its original monster. Wilkes and Avery felt it too and both rushed to obey.

The resulting explosion that Lupin had set up rocked the walls. The shockwaves sent him and Snape staggering. In no time at all Death Eaters were rushing out of the Great Hall at Riddle's command. Lupin fired a few shots at random from around the bend of the stairs before following Snape down into the depths of the castle. Multiple footsteps behind them confirmed that they were being followed. Multiple thumps a few seconds later showed that the tripwire they had set up had worked as planned. Hopefully it would slow the Death Eaters down long enough for Lupin and Snape to be ready for the next stage.

The lights in the dungeon were run off a different generator. Lupin had left it running but removed several of the lights themselves, leaving the corridor to vanish into shadow beyond a certain point. Snape had found enough stones, slabs and rocks for them to pile into a sizeable obstruction in the corridor. Lupin had, having taken out the light from the cell they intended to use to imprison as many Death Eaters as possible into, hung a battery-operated torch from the ceiling on a rope. He turned it on, set it swinging around and managed to be out of the cell and joining Snape in the darker shadows before their pursuers caught up.

In a hurry and confused by the unfamiliar darkness – not helped by having freely indulged in alcohol in celebration of the death of the traitors - the Death Eaters took the hastily-piled construction to be the end of the corridor. Seeing the moving light in the cell at the end they jumped to precisely the conclusion Lupin and Snape had hoped.

'In here!' bellowed Alecto Carrow, motioning for them to follow her.

Lupin watched them all charge in, waiting for exactly the right moment. He saw the flash of blond hair that was Malfoy, followed by the bulk of Amycus Carrow. Rookwood and Rodolphus Lestrange were directly behind them, Crabbe and Goyle almost at the rear. With sudden worry Lupin realised that while those in the cell were discovering the trick there was still a Death Eater in the corridor. He felt Snape's hand at his shoulder.

'Get the door,' Snape muttered, 'I've got Karkaroff.'

Lupin did so. He saw the muzzle flash in the corner of his eye, heard the report of the shot and the thump as Karkaroff's body hit the stones. He grabbed the door handle and pulled. He felt Snape come up beside him and felt the warmth of the man's hand beside his. They both hauled on the door but it stopped with a sudden jerk before closing fully. Snape gave a harsh exclamation. A hand had grabbed his sleeve, its owner trying to press himself through the gap in the door.

'Give up, Lucius,' Snape snapped, shaking his arm to try and free it.

'Severus,' Malfoy pleaded, 'I thought we were friends. How could you -'

There were shouts from the end of the corridor. The remaining Death Eaters had followed them. Lupin left Snape to struggle with Malfoy and the door alone and drew his gun. Nott rounded the corner first and fell with a perfect hole between his eyes. Rabastan Lestrange, right behind him, got a bullet in the leg but managed to dive back behind the corner. There was a brief volley of curses from there that sent Lupin back behind the edge of the doorway where Snape still struggled with Malfoy. With one injured and unusable wrist Snape was finding it difficult to fight Malfoy off while holding the door shut. It was all he could do to stop it being wrenched from his hand.

'Severus, listen to me,' Malfoy cajoled, voice low and secretive. 'Didn't we ... have something?'

Lupin ducked out of cover long enough to drop Wilkes in a spray of blood that painted the flagstones. He turned in time to see Snape spit at Malfoy. The man's face contracted into affront and anger only to twist up in sudden agony as Lupin, reaching around Snape, sent a bullet through his wrist. Malfoy fell back in shock, his arm pressed to his chest. Lupin took the door handle, allowing Snape to shove Malfoy away.

'I assure you, Lucius,' he said, loud enough for everyone in the cell to hear, 'you were terrible in bed.'

Lupin slammed the door shut and shot the bolts across. Heavy thumps sounded as the prisoners threw themselves against it but the door was much stronger than they were. They were trapped, leaving Lupin and Snape with the Death Eaters heading their way down the corridor. Snape pulled out his gun too, kneeling to take the lower position at the edge of the doorway. They didn't have to wait long.

Dolohov was the first to take his chance, leaning out just far enough to fire a curse. Sparks kicked off the stones by Lupin's cheek and he dodged back as Snape retaliated. Dolohov vanished again as chips of stone exploded where he had stood.

'Damn!' Snape cursed. 'Can't get the angle with this bloody wrist!'

'We'll get him next time,' Lupin assured, 'and the others too.'

'We'd better,' Snape assented. 'They've had this coming for a long time.' He readied his gun. 'What are you waiting for, Antonin?' he shouted in Russian, sticking his head round the edge of the doorway. 'Always knew you couldn't shoot straight ... and I would be the one to know!'

A fusillade of curses skimmed through the air where his head had been, ricocheting off stone and losing themselves in sparks at the darker end of the corridor. Lupin picked off Dolohov before the man could duck back into cover, adding another body to the one already there. Dismayed shouts came from the Death Eaters still there.

'We'll pick you off one by one if we have to,' Lupin promised them coolly. 'Maybe you should start running.'

'COWARDS AND FOOLS!'

The yell surprised all of them. Lupin glanced down at Snape, whose eyes had widened at the shout. A faint tremor crossed his lips before he pressed them into a firm line.

'Macnair,' he whispered. 'They call him the Executioner.'

'GET OUT THERE AND KILL THEM!'

'They'll come,' Snape said. 'He's scarier than we are.'

He was right. There was the sound of boots of stone and three Death Eaters were charging towards them, wands firing. Rabastan Lestrange, already injured and limping, had been thrust to the front by Mulciber and Rosier. A direct shot to the chest killed him outright but Mulciber grabbed Lestrange's body and carried it as a shield. Seconds later the two Death Eaters were practically on top of Lupin and Snape and fight began in earnest.

Lupin shoved Lestrange's body back into Mulciber, knocking the wand from the man's hand. He swept Mulciber off his feet with a leg and shot him as he fell to the ground. To his side Snape was throwing Rosier one-handed into the wall.

'Severus,' Rosier was gasping, 'I've known you since we were boys! Can't you...'

'You were a supercilious little bastard then too,' Snape cut him off, shooting him in the thigh.

Rosier slumped to the floor, clutching his leg and groaning in agony. His face went the colour of old milk.

'That,' Snape told him, 'was me being merciful.'

A sudden noise drew them from the sight of the Death Eater writhing on the ground. Great thumping footsteps ran towards them, accompanied by a rising growl.

It was Macnair. He had taken advantage of the distraction Rosier had provided to get close to the pair. He was carrying a huge axe, swinging it with more strength than Lupin had thought possible. The man was built like a circus strongman and had the strength of a lion. Great yellow teeth were bared in a roar as biceps rolled and pulled tense. The sharp head of the axe came swooping down to spark on the stones as both Lupin and Snape leapt out of its path. Macnair roared and raised it again.

Lupin pulled his trigger, missing the forehead he was aiming at as Macnair rushed forward but catching the huge man square in the shoulder. Macnair didn't even flinch. The axe came down again, an inch from Lupin's head. He braced himself for the impact of that heavy body but was surprised when the shadow lifted again. Snape had leapt at Macnair's thick neck, clawing and scratching. Macnair stumbled upright again, meaty hands trying to pull Snape off him. The axe was dropped with a clang. Lupin leapt to his feet and tried to secure a shot at his target.

Macnair roared and pitched about like an untamed bronco, tossing Snape around while the man hung on grimly with one arm. Letting go suddenly wasn't an option when Macnair's hand grabbed Snape's, twisting him to the front between Macnair and Lupin.

'Take the damn shot!' Snape yelled, turning to yell at Lupin.

Lupin sighted on Macnair's head, only to lose his target as the man moved again and Snape was in the way again. Macnair laughed and it was more like a roar. Snape hissed and spat some curses that Lupin had never even heard before then set his teeth to Macnair's ear. The big man really roared, especially when Snape's foot unerringly found a soft below-the-belt target. Macnair dropped him with a bellow. Snape rolled across the flagstones as Lupin took his shot. Macnair toppled, finally put down by a bullet through his eye.

Lupin leaned down to help Snape up.

'Why didn't you just shoot him?' he demanded.

Snape threw up a hand. 'The gun jammed!'

'So you jumped on him?' Lupin rolled his eyes at Snape's one shoulder shrug. 'Never mind. Grab a wand off someone and let's get on with this.'

Snape threw him a mock-salute before moving to rifle through the bodies for wands. Soon they were heading back up into the castle, better armed and ready to finish the job.


	11. The Serpent's Head

**Title:** Red Serpent (11/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 3003 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

Apologies for the wait on this one. I don't even have a decent excuse, I'm afraid. Thank you for all the reviews – I'm a slag for feedback.

:::

Chapter Eleven: The Serpent's Head

:::

The remains of the generator were still smoking when Lupin and Snape came up the stairs. The darkness and the choking smog made it near impossible to see. Following the wall, they headed for the Great Hall where Riddle undoubtedly waited. Pettigrew too, Lupin thought with fury. His eyes were stinging, tears squeezing from the corners in defence against the prickling smoke. It rasped against the inside of his throat like a sandpaper massage. Rubble was strewn across the floor with sharp stone edges and gritty patches.

The smoke was clearing, Lupin suddenly realised. A vague glow ahead resolved itself into an open doorway. Even as his eyes adjusted to that, however, he saw a shadow loom against the light and an involuntary shudder wriggled down his spine. Snape was suddenly warm against his back, breath heating his ear.

'Greyback,' Snape whispered, 'he must have survived the explosion.'

Inexplicably, Lupin found himself reaching a hand back to touch Snape's. Snape gave a surprised twitch but responded with a reassuring squeeze to Lupin's fingers.

'He won't survive us,' Lupin said.

'He's a damn animal,' Snape warned.

'Then we'll put him down.'

The man in the doorway was waiting for them, his silhouette an obvious target. Lupin raised his wand but Greyback moved, slipping into the shadows and closing the door abruptly. Left in sudden darkness there was no way of predicting his attack. Like a wary predator stalking skittish prey, Greyback waited. Like that nervous prey, flanks quaking among the long grass of the plains, Lupin felt his heart speed up and pound within his chest. He could feel Snape's body heat beside him and felt the fight-or-flight tension in him too. Time stretched out in dark, silent seconds.

Hoarse breathing suddenly made itself heard behind Lupin's ear.

'I smell the blood of an Englishman,' rasped Greyback.

Primal horror slammed through Lupin. He only dimly heard the report as Snape shot a curse at Greyback, the flash registering in smoke-dimmed eyes before adrenaline caught up with him and he dived to the floor. His breath came in short, fast pants that rubbed his throat like sandpaper. He heard a cry from one side, accompanied by a growl that rumbled through his bones. The cry cut off abruptly. Lupin scrambled to his feet, forcing himself to be calm. This was no time to jump at shadows. It was his turn to be predator. The wolf growled in his chest, demanding blood. He crept backwards until his back touched the wall, pushing his fear aside and concentrating on his surroundings. Greyback was, by the sounds Lupin could pick up, some fifteen feet away. So was Snape, his breathing sounding stifled and choked. Lupin stepped silently along the edge of the wall, keeping Greyback's position firmly in his head. Stone slid by under his fingers.

'Englishman, Englishman,' Greyback crooned.

Lupin forced himself to keep moving despite the fear that threatened to paralyse his bones. In werewolf terms there was no way he could win this. Fenrir was the alpha wolf. Paw against paw and tooth against tooth the advantage was his. The moon, however, was not full and they were as human as each other.

'I can smell you, Englishman,' Greyback went on, 'and I can't wait to get my teeth into you.' He laughed horribly. 'More to you than this stringy little morsel.'

There was a strangled noise from Snape. Lupin kept silent, still skimming the wall with his fingertips.

'Poor little Snape. I don't think he loves you after all. He isn't rushing to defend you, you little traitor.'

More noise from Snape, followed by sounds of violence. Flesh hitting stone made Lupin wince but finally there was wood beneath his fingers. He brought up his wand and his other hand found the metal it sought.

'Greyback...' he called.

He flung open the door. Light streamed in, not bright enough to dazzle but enough to give Lupin a clear view and to surprise Greyback. The man was crouched on the floor over Snape. One curse took him down cleanly, sending him to the floor with a thump and a green flash. Lupin hurried over to check. Burns covered large amounts of Greyback's skin, mixed with shards of metal and stone. There was no pulse in the thick neck. Snape struggled to his feet, rubbing his neck with one hand.

'Is he -?'

'He's dead,' Lupin confirmed.

'Thank God,' Snape murmured in Russian.

'Come on,' Lupin said. 'We're not done yet.'

'No,' Snape agreed solemnly, 'there's still _him_ to go.'

They walked to the double doors that led to the Great Hall, checking their wands as they went. Lupin took the door handle and, at a ready nod from Snape, shoved it open. Pettigrew was standing just a few feet away, a look of surprise on his plump face. One hand was rising slowly with his wand but Lupin sent a disarming curse before Pettigrew was anywhere near ready to try anything. The fat little man dropped to his knees in shock, round eyes staring at Lupin and the wand that was pointed directly at his face.

'D-d-don't...'

'What, kill you?' Lupin looked down stonily. 'Don't worry; I won't. You're going to face what you've done.'

A stunning hex sent Pettigrew falling to the floor in an unconscious heap. Lupin turned to see the bizarre tableau a little further into the hall. Snape stood with wand raised but not in use, seemingly transfixed by the sight of Riddle standing opposite him. Around Riddle's shoulders was the gently writhing length of Nagini, her eyes fixed dead on Snape's. Slowly, Riddle lifted the great snake from around his neck. She slithered in his arms as if bestowing an obscene caress, rubbing her blunt nose across his cheek and flickering her forked tongue along his lips. When Riddle's eyes moved to the men opposite him he seemed amused.

'I suppose you expect me to - what is the apt phrase? - come quietly?' he asked.

'Your Death Eaters can't help you now,' Lupin told him. 'You might as well give up before this gets messier than it needs to.'

Riddle nodded graciously. He turned his gaze to Snape, whose fingers whitened around the wand he pointed unwaveringly at his former leader. Riddle merely regarded him for a few moments before he gave a condescending sneer and turned away. His eyes had barely met Lupin's again when Riddle moved abruptly. With a heave he sent Nagini flying through the air, twisting towards her target. Snape's instinctive hex went wide and smashed a windowpane as the heavy snake knocked him to the floor. Writhing coils surrounded him and wrestled with his flailing limbs, snapping his wand like kindling.

There was suddenly a wand in Riddle's hand, its pale tip pointed firmly at Lupin.

'You have made a mess, I'll give you that,' he said calmly. 'But any mess can be cleaned up.'

'Not this one,' Lupin responded grimly. 'You've tried to murder a British citizen and blackmail the Secret Service into allowing you to stay here. Your plots have fallen through.'

'Not quite,' Riddle said, gesturing a little with his wand. 'I can - and make no mistake, I will - kill you now and continue with my plans as before. They may be a little less elegant with you hexed to oblivion and Severus's throat ripped out by Nagini but I assure you I will have my way.'

'Don't count on it,' spat Lupin. '_Stupefy_!'

A stream of red light erupted from the end of his wand but Riddle was quicker than he had anticipated. The hex bounced off Riddle's shield charm and chipped a flagstone as Riddle returned fire. Lupin felt the displaced air ruffle strands of hair as it passed. He dived to one side, firing another curse as he did. Riddle reciprocated, though still neither hit the other.

'How long are we to do this for?' Riddle asked. 'Until one of us actually gets in a lucky shot? The longer you dance with me, Mr. Lupin, the less time you have to save your lover.'

Lupin very deliberately did not look over to where he knew Snape was. If he took his eyes off Riddle he would be dead. Snape would just have to deal with the snake himself. Lupin kept his gaze on Riddle, watching the man's eyes and hands for the faintest twitch. No man could make a move to kill another without a single flicker elsewhere telegraphing his intention, not even a cold reptile like Riddle. A contraction in the corner of Riddle's left eye was enough to set Lupin moving again. A green jet of light pinged off the stones where he had been.

His latest move had inadvertently placed Snape between him and Riddle. Now, without looking away from Riddle, Lupin could see Snape struggling with the giant snake. He had his good hand under her jaw, pushing the head with its deadly fangs as far away from himself as possible. The oppressive weight coiling around him, however, was threatening to overcome what strength he had left. Lupin could detect a definite tremble in Snape's arm as he fought to hold Nagini away. He couldn't help him, though; not without exposing vulnerability to Riddle. The slither of scales on stone and skin made him want to shudder but he held still. He still had a job to do.

Riddle was looking at him expectantly.

'Well, Mr. Lupin?' he asked. 'Will you choose Severus or me? Save or kill?'

Lupin walked towards where man and snake were intertwined on the floor. Snape's eyes rose to his but Lupin didn't meet them even as he bent slightly towards him. He could see Riddle readying his wand.

Time seemed to hold still for a few moments, holding its breath.

'I'll do my job,' Lupin growled.

He leapt over Snape, ducking to the side to avoid Riddle's curse and running straight on. Before Riddle could shoot off another curse Lupin was on him, violence in his fists. The wolf roared within him demanding that he hurt-smash-rip-kill but he reined it in enough to stay human. Riddle may have been a monster in his own way but Lupin was determined to prove that he wasn't. He had to kill the man. He didn't have to sink to his level. A punch knocked the wand from Riddle's hand and Lupin kicked it back towards where Snape was.

Riddle did not give up easily. Long fingers grasped at Lupin's arms and face, clawing and scraping. Lupin gritted his teeth and continued to push Riddle down. Angry scrapes appeared on the smooth scalp as it made contact with the stones. Riddle cursed Lupin in Russian, angry spittle flying from his mouth and fury in his eyes.

With a single _Confringo_, it was all over. Riddle's head lolled back onto the floor, resting squarely on the edges of the gaping hole in the back of it. The stones were painted lurid shades of scarlet, alternately bleached by the cloud-obscured moon and darkened by shadows. It would pass for a bullet wound at a cursory examination. M disliked his agents using Unforgivables, though he understood their necessity. Besides, Lupin couldn't help but feel that Riddle did not deserve the peaceful look of an _Avada Kedavra_.

He stood, turning quickly. Snape had managed to regain his feet, still wrapped in tightening coils of snake that held him tighter than any lover had. One booted foot pushed against the back of Nagini's head, keeping the dangerous fangs well out of the way. As Lupin watched Snape picked up Riddle's abandoned wand and, with a grim smile and steady hand, put down the giant snake with one silent curse. Death throes sent the long body twisting into angry spasms, dragging Snape to the floor and shaking him about like a rag doll. Lupin hurried forward to give him a hand.

'No snake is going to get the better of me,' Snape gasped as Lupin pulled the dead creature off him.

'Is that all of them now?' Lupin asked.

Snape didn't answer immediately, looking down at Riddle's corpse. The dead, white face did not look peaceful; Lupin was oddly satisfied by that.

'I think so,' Snape replied eventually, the words coming slowly. 'Except ... no, wait...'

He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence. A hex shot from across the hall and Snape collapsed to the floor, clutching at his leg. Lupin turned towards him but Snape pointed to a dark corner of the hall urgently, pain stealing his voice for the moment. Lupin, with a brief nod, obeyed. He ran towards the doorway he could just about see in the shadows. A giggle came from the figure there and he knew who was left, which one of Riddle's mad disciples still needed to be dealt with. Of them all, she was probably the craziest and he had a score to settle with her.

He followed the sound of Bellatrix's cackles up the long spiral staircase of the tower. She could not have any clear aim in mind; Riddle was dead and all his plans destroyed. She could have picked him off back in the hall but hadn't. There was no fathoming the mind of a lunatic, Lupin concluded. He took the steps two or three at a time. Eventually a door, already wide open and swinging, came into view ahead.

The top of the tower was open to the sky and it was starting to rain. Bellatrix stopped halfway across, spinning to face Lupin with a triumphant grin. A wand gleamed in her hand, spitting sparks and smoke. Lupin dived and skidded across harsh stone. He rushed at the madwoman, ducking and dodging the wild hexes. One grazed his shoulder before he slammed into her legs but the sudden flare of pain did not stop him. She hit the floor with him on top, though the grin never left her face.

He slammed her hand against the stone to get her to drop the wand. She clung onto it fiercely, trying to twist it round to curse him. It took three slams and Lupin ferociously grinding the bones at her wrist together to loosen that grip. Even then he couldn't grab the wand himself; Bellatrix had begun clawing at his face with her other hand.

'Crazy bitch!' he barked, grabbing at her hand and pinning it down.

She laughed in his face, her fetid breath making him gag, and brought her knee up into his groin. Lupin doubled over with a grunt and she shoved him off, heading for her wand. She was quick, but Lupin was just fast enough to knock the wand with his foot. It slid across increasingly wet stone and vanished over the edge of the tower.

Bellatrix howled, throwing herself on him. Her fingernails scratched across his cheek while her other hand was seemingly everywhere, tearing and grabbing. He knocked her back, using the brief respite to get at least one foot under him. A second hit from him - a proper punch this one, she was no lady after all - sent her closer to the edge of the tower.

'You're an angry man when roused,' she choked out, eyes bright over the hands she was stifling her bleeding nose with, 'I was worried that you were going to be so dull; all prim and proper and English!' She shrieked out a laugh. 'So unlike that last one. He was all fire and anger and was so much fun!'

She meant Black, Lupin realised. Poor old Sirius; so full of life and smiles and killed by this madwoman. Fury leapt within him and as he went for her again but it wasn't Black's face that dominated his thoughts. Snape, bruised and bloody and hurt after his former comrades had finished torturing him, was the only thing Lupin could think of. All he could do was take revenge, repaying in kind. A black eye was for a black eye, a broken wrist was for another, and a punch to the chest was for the burns on Snape's.

Even the beating could not stop Bellatrix's laughter, though. Lying on the stones with blood soaking into her clothing she still howled and screamed her mad entertainment. Lupin looked down at her and felt sick. He stood and walked away, squinting out at the lake through the rain. It was pouring now and he could see it drifting across the valley in great sheets. It smacked onto the parapets of the tower, hissing down the stonework in torrents. Behind him, it was landing on the stones with a sound like running footsteps.

'Remus, look out!'

Lupin instinctively dropped to one side. He ended up behind a gargoyle poised on the edge, watching as Bellatrix's headlong rush carried her past him and off the edge of the tower, where she plummeted downwards. He waited until she hit the ground, needing to be sure she was not getting up again and only then raised his head to the other person on the tower.

Snape limped across the tower top to offer Lupin his good hand and pulled him to his feet. The rain had plastered his hair to his head in sodden strings.

'The crazy bitch dead?' he asked.

'I should think so, from this height.'

'Good.' Snape pushed wet hair away from his eyes. 'You've avenged your friend Black then.'

Lupin began to nod but stopped. 'I didn't do it for him,' he admitted. His hand came up to cup Snape's jaw, drawing the man's head closer. 'He's not the one who's here to appreciate it, for one thing.'

Snape took a slow, deliberate breath inward. 'And for another?'

Lupin smiled, leaned in closer and kissed him. The rain continued to fall in torrential sheets from black skies. Away to the east, where the great bear of Russia slumbered for the moment, the darkness was just beginning to brighten into a grey dawn.

To be continued…


	12. An Unexpected Pair of Boots

**Title:** Red Serpent (12/12)

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** death, destruction, sex, violence, torture and a gratuitous explosion or two. Yikes.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and associated characters belong to JK Rowling. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming.

**Word Count:** 2100 (31881 overall)

**Summary:** Remus Lupin is a spy, one of British Intelligence's finest, and this may be his most deadly mission yet. Armed with only his native wit and courage and assisted by the enigmatic and magnetic Severus Snape he must penetrate deep into Communist Russia to bring down the powerful Lord Voldemort.

**A/n:** Love to drachenmina for the fabulous beta.

**Further notes:** I didn't think I needed to say this but as this work of fiction is intended as an homage to Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. In keeping with this aim the action takes place in the mid-twentieth century and, as such, will contain views and morality appropriate for that time.

I am so ridiculously sorry for the wait on this chapter. I just completely forgot, I'm afraid. I posted it all on livejournal and insanejournal ages ago.

:::

Chapter Twelve: An Unexpected Pair of Boots

:::

Lupin did not see Snape for some time after they returned from Scotland. The man had needed medical care for one thing, and then there was the standard procedure of the Service for dealing with defectors.

Snape had asked, while they sat wet and breathless on the cold Hogwarts stone waiting for the backup Lupin had called, what was going to happen to him. Lupin hadn't answered immediately. He knew what awaited Snape in the coming weeks, maybe months, and he didn't envy him it in the slightest. The Russian would be taken to a pleasant little private house where his comfortable room would be painstakingly wiretapped for every sound. There would be questions too, day after day after day of them from the Service interrogators while recording tape whirred nearby. Not just the men from the Service either; the Ministry would have their own inquiries and so would the Muggle intelligence service. Each interrogation session would be transcribed and examined in every detail, however minor, to evaluate any contradictions arising from the repeated questioning. They would be looking to catch Snape out, waiting for him to make the slightest misstep. It would be a hard, arduous process.

'They'll ask you a lot of questions,' Lupin finally responded, somewhat lamely.

Snape's answer had been a snort, accompanied by a push of his shoulder into Lupin's. Lupin, looking at the deceptively hardy figure beside him, came to the conclusion that Snape would probably manage just fine. The man wasn't an idiot, after all. He could probably outthink most of the Service interrogators any day of the week. His problem would probably be keeping a close rein on his tongue to avoid pissing off the interrogators too much. Snape was just the sort of person who could get on the wrong side of someone like Alastor Moody, if he came under the grumpy eye of the seasoned interrogator.

There was nothing Lupin could do about that. Snape had been driven off in short order after Lupin's backup had arrived. He didn't even glance back at Lupin as he was escorted into the back of a car. Lupin had returned the favour. He wasn't some lovesick idiot. Besides, he had a keepsake of Snape in his pocket. Sharp, stiff paper edges brushed his fingers as he slipped his hand in. He couldn't let anyone else get their hands on those photographs and their extremely incriminating nature. He would have to dispose of them himself when he returned home.

Weeks later, he still hadn't brought himself to do it. The photos lay hidden in his flat, sordid content still as lurid as when they were taken. Lupin would occasionally take them out with the intent of destroying them once and for all but somehow unable to. He would shove them back in their plain envelope resentfully, but not before heat had curled within him in seductive coils. That chilly hotel room in Moscow seemed further away with each day but the photographs could take him back there as suddenly as a finger-snap. Occasionally his mind would drift to what he'd wondered about on his first evening in Moscow, before he had even met Snape. The following adventure had only convinced him that Snape would be an asset to the Service, if indeed it was M's plan to recruit him. He rather expected M would think so too, even if Snape disagreed. M would have something to hold over Snape if that were the case, Lupin thought grimly. He knew how useful M found that sort of leverage. Snape would have to comply or M could send him back to Russia where Lupin didn't doubt he'd vanish quicker than one could say 'traitor'.

Lupin's routine returned to its day-to-day humdrum; the paperwork, the dinners alone and the drinks in quiet bars. He no longer took any women home with him. They didn't excite him in the same way they used to, didn't set his heart pumping and breath quickening. They would press against him, all soft skin and plump breasts, and he would be unmoved. Frustrated by his apathy he would leave early, resigned to another night on his own in what now seemed an impossibly quiet and lonely flat. The closest he had come to inviting a girl home had been when he met Dora Tonks, a very independent and modern woman.

'The people round here are a bunch of boring tossers,' she had said, standing by him at the bar. 'The women are just so bloody vacuous and as for the men. Pah! If I have one more chartered accountant or civil engineer trying to convince me that he's a top scientist, a big cheese in the business world or a spy I'm going to bloody punch them. You're not going to try and convince me you're a spy or something, are you?'

Lupin had smiled. 'That's the last thing I'd do,' he said entirely truthfully.

Her lips quirked. 'Well, so you're not a bragging idiot then. What do you do?'

'I work for the civil service. Frightfully dull, of course, but it pays the rent and allows me to buy drinks for attractive women.' He caught the barman's attention. 'Speaking of which, what can I get you?'

'Aren't you the smooth one,' she said, genuine amusement in her voice. 'Pint of cider for me.'

He ordered the drinks, raising an eyebrow at her. She grinned unapologetically.

'I can't see the point in trying to come over all feminine when what I really fancy is a pint. I've never been a fan of little girly drinks. Not enough to them.'

'Why pretend to be what you aren't?' he had agreed, feeling just a little hypocritical. 'My name's Lupin. Remus Lupin.'

They talked for most of the evening, ensconced at a little table in a corner. Dora proved an engaging conversationalist; bright, witty and passionate. She put forward her opinions without apparently considering what her conversational partner expected or wanted her to say, leading to spirited and good-natured arguments that amounted more to verbal foreplay than anything else. Even so, Lupin felt something was missing; perhaps it was that he had to lie about his employment. It was concealing part of him. He had never been bothered by this before in all his dalliances with the beautiful women but now he was after something more intellectually stimulating than a quick shag. The realisation stunned him a little. Dora was certainly more intelligent than his usual but he still wanted more.

'This bar, for example,' she said, wiping her top lip with the back of her hand. 'Everyone here is pretending to be something they aren't. They're trying to look richer or sexier or just, you know, better. And what's the point?'

'So they can end up in bed with someone else who is doing exactly the same as they are?'

She laughed. 'That's a typical male view. Not everything is about sex, you know.'

'Then I must apologise on behalf of my gender,' Lupin said, 'because in this situation it is. Look at that chap by the bar; the one with the blond curls and the rather affected manner.' He indicated the subject with a tilt of his head. 'He's not dressed up like that for meaningful conversation. He's dressed to attract, though I do have to question his taste.'

Dora twisted in her chair to examine the man, lips quirking up at his idea of style.

'Whatever it is he's after,' she said, turning back, 'I say it's mostly to do with insecurity and dissatisfaction. He obviously doesn't like who he is most of the time or he wouldn't be trying to look like someone else now.'

'I expect so,' Lupin agreed, 'and if he appears more sociably acceptable he is more likely to find someone willing to sleep with him.'

'You're not going to let that theory go, are you?' she said, eyes dancing with promises.

'I see no need to.' He leaned back in his chair. He could have her tonight, if he wanted. 'After all, why have you come here tonight?'

'For fun,' she answered. 'And yes,' she fixed him with a gaze, 'that might include sex. Depends what I'm in the mood for and who's around. You; you've got it on the brain, haven't you? Something on your mind - or someone, perhaps?'

Lupin's thoughts stumbled, tripping over black hair and pale skin. He took a long swallow of his drink, pulling himself back to England and this busy bar.

'How could I think of someone else when I have you in front of me?' he managed.

'Oh, you are an absolute gentleman!' she said with a laugh. 'That's what I like about you, Remus Lupin. You're a nice bloke. Too few of them around, these days.'

He pulled away at that. He was not a nice man, no matter what he appeared. He did horrible things for Queen and country. He was, quite literally, a monster. He had killed and remembered the instance of each killing he had committed, even those under the influence of the wolf. No woman deserved to be close to that. Besides, he was too old for her too; too old and too dangerous.

There was that, and the fact that he strongly suspected he was only physically interested in her for the boyishness of her slim figure and her mannish independence.

He had made his excuses and left, going back to a chilly flat and a large Firewhiskey. It became the pattern of his nights until the missing piece that he had only just begun to realise wasn't there came back.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, unremarkable in its wind and rain, that it did. Lupin, unsuspecting, returned to his flat after work. The paperwork had been as officious and dull as ever, and the people too. Lupin stepped in his door and shrugged off his dripping coat, hanging it in the hallway to dry itself out. He pulled off his shoes, filthy with the muck of London streets, setting them beside the other pairs in his hallway. An unexpected pair of boots sat in the way, bringing him up short. He stared at them. No burglar would have such consideration for the carpets and he wasn't expecting guests, particularly not ones who would let themselves in. The only other person who had a key was his cleaner, Mrs Figg, and they were not women's boots.

Lupin crept through his hallway and peered round the doorway into his lounge. Nothing missing here; his chair and table with the empty glass still sat where he had left them the previous night. He stepped into the room. There were a few things out of place, he realised, but still nothing missing. His book, left carelessly upside-down last night was now front cover up. The Firewhiskey bottle was on the table, though Lupin remembered it being on the floor before. A closer look at his bookshelves revealed that they had been examined and now seemed in a rather neater state than usual. Even the magical books on their concealed shelf had been moved about. Lupin took this as further confirmation that this was no burglar but increased his curiosity as to this mysterious guest. Finding nothing further in the lounge, he headed back into the hall with a hand close to the pocket where his wand was.

The smell first caught his attention, a gentle waft of it crossing his nose. At once familiar and unfamiliar it took him a few moments to identify. It was cigarette smoke, but not his brand, and with the smell of it came the ghost of the taste rising from his memory: dry smoke, cheap vodka and the bitter taste of the man himself.

Lupin turned on his heel and headed for his bedroom without hesitation.

Snape was reclining on Lupin's bed in shirtsleeves and stockinged feet. A lit cigarette dangled between two fingers. As Lupin entered Snape was knocking the ash from the end into the ashtray beside the bed. He looked up from hooded eyes.

'Your people finished with me,' he said casually. 'They said not to go far. You don't mind?'

Lupin paused just long enough that he saw a little insecurity slip into the assured black eyes before he took the cigarette from that long hand and stubbed it out. He leaned down until his lips just brushed Snape's.

'Not at all,' he breathed and kissed him. The jigsaw pieces of his life had slotted into place and at last the pattern was clear.

**The End.**


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